Always Watching (5 page)

“Didn't you go to the funerals?”

“Yes, but  . . .” She shrugged and looked away, then cleared her throat. “So Maddy's told me a little about your charity,” she said. “I think it's a wonderful thing you're doing.”

He nodded. Allowed the change of subject even while his mind processed what she'd revealed. “Thanks. After my late wife took off, I had a huge adjustment to single parenthood. Amy was just a baby at the time, but her mother's abandonment and eventual death still had an effect on her. On us.”

“Of course it did.”

“I wanted to help parents and kids who found themselves in that situation. Fortunately, I had a father and the funds to make things easier on me. The majority of single parents don't have that. This charity makes a difference for them.”

“It's a much-needed organization. I applaud you for founding it.” Her eyes never stopped moving. He knew she was listening to him, but her alert status never wavered. For some reason that comforted him. Made his respect for her slide up a notch.

She held up a finger when her phone rang.

“Put it on speaker, will you?” he said.

She lifted a brow but did so.

“I have something, Liv,” Katie said, her voice strong and concerned. “Let me finish clearing the house.”

“What is it?”

“Someone left a gift on the front steps.”

Olivia glanced at him and Wade narrowed his eyes. “What kind of gift?” she asked.

“A package. Stay put until I know whether or not it's rigged to go boom.”

Wade flinched. “Go boom?” He sat, tension threading through every muscle. He could feel his heart beating in his temples and had to remind himself to breathe.

It seemed like hours before Katie's voice came back on the line. “The house is clear, you might as well come around to the front porch and see it. One thing I do know: it's not going to go boom.”

“Well, that's a comfort,” Wade muttered. In the rearview mirror, he saw his sister-in-law pull in behind him with Amy and Amy's friend Stacy Abbott. He'd forgotten all about Stacy staying the weekend.

He climbed from the vehicle, anxious to see what his stalker had left. He was grateful Olivia didn't try to stop him from entering the house, she just followed him.

Into her phone, she spoke to someone else. “Keep everyone out of the house for the moment. Did you check the guest house where the sister-in-law lives?” She cut the speakerphone off and listened. Spoke again. “Good. I'll let you know when it's clear to allow them to come in.”

At the door, Wade paused and glanced back at his daughter. The frown on her pretty young face said she wanted to know what was going on and would pit bull him until he told her. She might have anxiety issues, but she also had her fair share of his stubborn genes. He sighed. And maybe it was time to talk to her. This whole situation seemed to be snowballing at a rate that would bury them all under an avalanche of danger if he didn't do something to figure out who was stalking him and put a stop to it.

He stepped inside the short hallway. To his right was a room his sister-in-law often used for scrapbooking and other craftwork. To his left was his office. He bypassed that and his dining room and stepped into the foyer. He opened the front door and found the person Olivia had been talking to. Katie. She was bent over an object on his front porch.

His father had pulled around to the left side of the horseshoe-shaped drive while Wade had been distracted with Olivia and the call. The man now stood next to Katie, his eyes on whatever she was also looking at.

His father's pasty-white face sent dread skittering through Wade, but he didn't falter in his steps. He wanted to know. Had to know.

Katie sat on the top step, looking down into a box that probably measured three feet long by two feet wide. It wasn't the box itself that caused his breathing to quicken, but the shape.

He skidded to a stop. “Seriously? A coffin?” His heart thudded, beating a painful, heavy rhythm in his chest. “How do you know it's not going to ‘go boom'?” He identified another emotion surging through him. Anger. Pure white-hot rage that someone would dare violate his home, his life and family.

“Katie's had extensive training in explosives. She's ex-ATF,” Olivia said. “If she says it's not a bomb, it's not.”

“Oh.” Feeling slightly better, he glanced at the woman named Katie. Tall, maybe five feet ten, a hundred forty or so pounds, she had black hair pulled back into a severe ponytail, olive skin, black eyes. She wasn't beautiful like her partner, but she was pretty in an understated, non-flashy way. She wore no makeup that he could see, and her clothes suggested she dressed for comfort, not fashion. She had gloves on her hands. The kind of gloves cops wore. “Then what is it?”

“I've called the police. We have to report this, but in the meantime, you can have a look inside.”

Wade hesitated for only a brief second before he moved so he could see. Olivia stayed with him and together they looked into the box. He sucked in a silent breath. Olivia went still. Frozen.

On top of plastic that had been stapled to the sides of the coffin, a teddy bear with dark black eyes stared up at him.

The head had been decapitated.

Red liquid filled the area under the body. The plastic kept the blood from soaking the cardboard coffin, and the odor emanating from the object made him sure the blood wasn't paint or theater makeup. He turned away, feeling sick. “Who would do this?”

“Whoever you ticked off when you announced you were throwing her gifts away,” his father said.

Wade looked back, the image now ingrained in his memory. “Whose blood is that?”

“I'm hoping it's animal blood,” Katie said. “But we'll have it tested to be sure.”

Wade set his jaw and stared. Then narrowed his eyes as he took in the details of the mutilated stuffed animal. “Wait a minute.”

“What?” Olivia asked.

“I need to check on something.” He opened the front door
and moved into the house. He heard Olivia follow him, but his focus was on finding out if he was right or not. He headed toward the back hall that would take him toward Amy's room.

Olivia followed him up the stairs. “What is it, Wade?”

“Hold on a minute and we'll both know.” He pushed open the door to his daughter's room and went to her bed. A plethora of stuffed animals lined the headboard and propped themselves on blue checkered pillows. “It's here, I know it is.”

Olivia waited behind him, her impatience nearly tangible, but at least she didn't push him. He'd explain soon enough.

There. He grabbed the bear and turned, holding it in front of him. “This. Anything stand out to you about this?”

Olivia stepped farther into the bedroom and took the toy from him. “It's the same one.”

“Identical.”

She glanced up. “I thought you threw everything away.”

“Everything but that. Amy loved it so I let her keep it.”

“Katie's called the police. We'll file the report about this latest incident. What's your security system like here again? I know we went over everything with your father, but maybe it's better that we have your input.”

“I have a security system that I turn on when I'm not here, and I make sure Amy arms it if she's alone—which is pretty much never and definitely not since all of this started. The windows are wired, the doors . . . motion detectors and lights on the perimeter of the house. I've been much more meticulous about arming it these days, trust me.”

“Cameras?”

“No.”

“We'll definitely need to add those and some floodlights around the boathouse.”

As she talked, she became more animated, her passion and
dedication for her job coming through. It comforted him and attracted him all at the same time.

He nodded. “All right.” He needed to stop noticing things about Olivia that he didn't have any business noticing. There had been a lot of gorgeous women in his life. Women he'd simply noticed were beautiful, but he'd felt no special tug of interest in. Except for Justine. Beautiful, sweet Justine. He looked away for a moment as her memory rushed over him. He cleared his throat. Just because he'd gone and felt that spark of interest in Olivia didn't mean he had to get all distracted by that.

At least not right now. Probably not ever.

“And another thing,” she said, “there will be a police officer assigned to your home. He—or she—will be here at all times to watch the house. Fortunately, I have a lot of friends on the force who are willing to earn a few extra bucks by lending their skills when needed. The police force itself doesn't have the resources to be able to watch you like you need it.” Her phone buzzed and she looked at it. “Good. Cameras will be installed first thing in the morning.”

“You have a lot of resources at your fingertips, don't you?”

“It's taken time to build the relationships, but yes, I'm very fortunate in that respect. When we started the agency, each of us brought resources with us. We utilize them when we need to.”

Wade walked to the window. He stared out across the expansive acreage and wondered if she was watching his house now. The anger still simmered.

“Do you mind not standing right in front of the window?”

He turned to see the frown on her face intense, hand outstretched like she was ready to snatch him from the very jaws of danger. He stepped back and to the side and her stance relaxed a fraction. “I guess I'm going to have to start thinking as though my life depends on how smart I am, aren't I?”

“Definitely. I'm really wanting cameras installed. This person is brazen enough to come onto your property. Maybe with a camera we'll be able to get a picture.” She shot him a stern look. “Don't mention the security upgrade on your radio show.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if,” he muttered. “I'm only an idiot on early Friday morning. This time of day, I'm good.”

He thought he might have caught a slight twitch of a smile on her lips, then decided it must have been a trick of the light. She kept the bear and headed back down to the porch.

Wade followed, his mind churning, wishing he could delete the image of the decapitated bear. “It's not like it was a real animal, get over it.”

“What?” Olivia turned, brows raised.

“Nothing.” They entered the den.

While he'd been scavenging for the bear in Amy's room, three police cruisers had arrived along with several plainclothes detectives.

“What's going on, Wade? Are you all right? Why won't they let us in?”

Wade looked up to find his sister-in-law, Martha, ignoring a female officer's upraised hand and heading for him. Amy was right behind her, along with her friend Stacy. The officer started to exert force to keep them back when Olivia gave the woman a discreet nod. The officer shrugged and let them through.

“Yeah, Dad, what's the deal with all the cops?” She chewed her lip, her eyes bouncing from one person to the next. Her anxiety level was probably rising by the second.

He stepped forward. No way he wanted her or Stacy to see what was in the coffin. He caught Martha by the arm. “I'll explain later. Would you please take the girls over to your place until I give you the all clear?”

“Certainly.”

“No, Dad, I want to stay with you.” Amy wrapped her arms around his waist and clung.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and met Martha's eye. “All right, look, how about you and Stacy and Aunt Martha go into the kitchen and make some cookies?”

Martha nodded. “That sounds fun.” Martha's troubled expression said she didn't want to make cookies, she wanted to ask questions, but he was thankful that she simply turned to Amy and Stacy. “Come on, girls.”

Wade gave the top of Amy's head a kiss and gently set her from him. “Go on. We'll talk in a little while, okay?”

She frowned and the anxiety in her eyes pinched his heart.

Then Martha placed a hand on Amy's shoulder. “Your dad needs to deal with this without us being in the way. Let's go have a snack and I'm sure he'll come explain when he can.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Their voices faded as Martha led Amy away.

He turned back to find himself nose to nose with a man about his age. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry.” The man stepped back. Dark eyes rimmed with long lashes glinted questions and a tad of . . . suspicion? Nevertheless, he held out a hand. Wade shook it and simply waited for the man to speak. The intense assessment finally stopped. “I'm Detective Quinn Holcombe. I've been assigned as the lead on this case.”

“Case?”

“Maddy McKay was your bodyguard. Her throat was slit because someone was trying to get at you. You were attacked outside the radio station. You're now officially a case.”

Olivia clenched her jaw. Quinn's tension scraped along her nerves like a physical touch. An unwelcome one.

Quinn and Maddy had worked together on several occasions during Maddy's four years with the bureau and then again when Maddy wound up working security for someone Quinn happened to be connected with. Olivia had watched them grow close and become good friends, and she knew he was taking Maddy's attack and attempted murder personally.

CSU worked, gathering evidence, imprinting the porch railing and the surrounding area, bagging the small coffin and the two bears. Wade ignored Quinn and watched the activity, his face expressionless, even while she knew his mind had to be spinning, questioning. But his adrenaline was crashing, his shoulders drooping.

“As soon as everyone is out of here, I recommend you take a nap,” she said.

He cast her a tight smile. “I just woke up from one.”

True enough. “You know what I mean.” Another car pulled
up and Wade turned to watch. Olivia recognized the vehicle. “That's Bree Standish.”

When the woman stepped out of the car, Olivia nodded to her. The detective returned the greeting with a small wave and headed their way. Quinn stayed silent while he waited for Bree's arrival.

One of the advantages Olivia had was her background in law enforcement. She'd risen through the ranks from rookie cop to detective within the same police department as Quinn and Bree, and that fact gave her a distinct advantage. She already had their respect and they all knew she had nothing to prove.

“We need to talk a little about your schedule when Quinn and Bree are finished,” Olivia murmured to Wade.

“My schedule?”

“I'm your new bodyguard.”

“Oh. Okay then.” He shot her a sideways glance. “You're fired.”

“You didn't hire me, you can't fire me.”

Her low tone never changed. In fact she almost sounded amused. “Then I'm firing my father,” he muttered.

Bree held out a hand to him. “Wade Savage?”

“Yes.” He shook her hand.

“Detective Bree Standish.”

Quinn gave Bree a short nod of welcome. “Who has access to your house?” he asked Wade.

Wade waited a moment, then he shifted his gaze and met Quinn's head-on. Olivia's respect for Wade shot up a few notches. He wouldn't be bullied. By a stalker or by a police detective. Good for him. “Anyone who wants to drive up,” Wade said. “No one could actually get in the house without setting the alarm off, but there's nothing stopping someone from driving onto the property and walking up to the front door.”

“You have any enemies?”

“At least one who likes to use drugs to incapacitate her prey,” Olivia snapped.

Quinn shot Olivia an impatient look, but kept his questions directed toward Wade. “What about your clients? Anyone not happy with the way their treatment is going?”

Wade's lips tightened. “Not that I know of. You'd have to ask them.”

“Excuse us a moment,” Olivia said to Wade and Bree. She grasped Quinn's arm and pulled him to the side. “What's your problem, Quinn? Wade's not on trial and this isn't his fault. Quit questioning him like he's a suspect.”

Quinn's dark eyes flashed. “My questions are standard. Maddy's lying in a hospital clinging to life because of this guy. I want to know everything he knows and I'll do whatever it takes to get it.”

“Tone it down,” she hissed. “The questions are fine, it's the attitude that's coming through with them that's detrimental. Maddy's not in the hospital because of Wade. She's hurt because there's a crazy person out there who's made him a target and Maddy took a hit doing her job. You know that as well as I do. Get ahold of your emotions.” She was preaching to the choir, but wouldn't let Quinn know that.

“I don't need you telling me—”

“No, what you
need
is to do your job.” She kept her voice low, controlled and cold. From the corner of her eye, she could see Wade's speculative glances even as Bree talked to him, her attitude more laid back and respectful.

Quinn paused and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “You're right. I don't know what my problem is. I just want to get back to the hospital and check on Maddy.”

“Then let's get this done. I'm sure Wade's ready for you all
to get out of here and let him rest and his family have some peace.”

Quinn gave a short nod and walked back to Wade. Olivia followed at a close distance, ready to intervene again if she had to. Wade was now her client. She'd protect him physically and emotionally. But she couldn't deny she wanted answers too.

She ticked off the boxes of how she figured the investigation would go.

Check to see if there were any witnesses who could give an account of what had happened in the parking lot of the station.

Check any security cameras in and around the area to see if the attacks were recorded.

CSU would look for any trace evidence that didn't belong to Wade.

And more.

Maddy wasn't just her handpicked employee, she was also a friend and one of the few people in the world whom Olivia trusted without question. Haley had handled contacting Maddy's family, who were on their way, and Olivia wanted to be instrumental in tracking down her attacker. Which meant encouraging Wade to answer Quinn's questions without losing his cool.

Quinn's attitude had noticeably lightened and Wade's shoulders had relaxed a fraction. He rubbed his eyes. “I have a caller. She calls me during every show, sometimes several more times over the course of the three hours. She calls herself Valerie. I don't know her last name. I suppose it's possible my stalker could be her. I don't get those vibes from her. She seems like a nice person, just lonely and hurting.”

“Lonely and hurting people have been known to seek comfort from those they admire, look up to, or fancy themselves in love with,” Quinn said quietly.

Olivia nodded. “And when the feelings aren't reciprocated, they strike out.”

Amy thought she might be dying. Her lungs felt too small to pull in any air, her chest had a giant rubber band around it, and someone was twisting the end, making it tighter and tighter. Her head throbbed and she just wanted to make it all stop. But she had no power to do anything about it. Powerless pretty much defined her.

The panic attacks controlled her. Her father dictated her every move, her aunt hardly let her out of her sight. And now the cops were combing through her home, her only safe place. Her escape.

At least Stacy hadn't noticed the attack yet.

She tried another breath. And another. Her hands tingled and her face felt weird. “Just a panic attack,” she whispered. “You won't die. You'll feel like it, but you won't.” Powerless. Out of control. She dragged in another breath.

“You okay, Amy?” Stacy asked.

“Fine,” she whispered.

“Do we need to go to our place?”

“No, no, I'll be all right. I want to know what's going on.” Their place was where they let their imaginations soar. They often met there during the week, but mostly on the weekends. Stacy lived in the neighborhood across the street. It wasn't as affluent as Amy's, but neither girl cared. All that was important was that they were within walking distance of each other and “the place.” A little clearing, surrounded by big trees and bushes that made it an almost-perfect circle. When Amy was in there, she felt safe. Protected. Her dad had even let them camp out there one night, rigging the tent with electricity and a small refrigerator. She shivered and almost bolted for the door
to seek out the comfort of the place. Or she could go to her room. It was closer. Her two favorite places in the world. Her room and the clearing. One inside and one out.

“Amy? Honey?”

Aunt Martha.

Amy turned, trying to keep her symptoms hidden. Aunt Martha might drive her nuts sometimes, but she loved her aunt and her aunt loved her. Doted on her—okay, more like smothered her—but at least she was there. Unlike her mother who'd run off and abandoned her and her father when Amy was a year old—then died in a car wreck a year later. “When are they leaving?” she asked.

“When they're done.” Her aunt went to the cabinet beneath the sink and grabbed a sponge and cleaner and went to work scrubbing the already clean stainless steel. “And we don't need to make a fresh batch of cookies if you'd rather not. There are some in the jar from yesterday.”

Amy rolled her eyes at Stacy, swallowed, and snagged a cookie from the jar. Stacy did the same but chewed on her bottom lip instead of the treat. Amy's aunt continued to scrub, her movements harsh and jerky. She was worried too. Stacy reached over and clasped Amy's fingers in a tight grip.

While taking comfort from her friend's quiet support, Amy watched the back-and-forth movements for another few seconds and miraculously felt her attack ease. The band around her chest released and she drew in a deep breath. Sweet relief filled her. After another minute of watching her aunt, she decided that if she wanted to know what was going on, she was going to have to put forth the effort to find out.

She tugged on Stacy's hand and motioned for her to follow. They slipped from the kitchen into the hallway that led to the den where the officers were still talking with Amy's father.

“. . . my stalker could be her.”

She froze. Wait a minute. Her dad had a stalker?

Her father said something else, but those were the words that registered. She shot a glance at Stacy, whose eyes were wide.

“Stalker?” she mouthed the word to Stacy.

Stacy shrugged and nodded.

Was that why he'd been so suffocating lately?

Amy felt the press of the attack start to rise again. She did her best to ignore it. Sometimes when she could focus on something else, the attack would ease—like back in the kitchen. And she had to hear this. She moved closer.

“Do you have her number?” the cop asked.

“It comes up anonymous on the screen.”

“But you take the call anyway.”

Her father shrugged. “She seems harmless enough and she's hurting. Like a lot of the people who listen to the show and call in. Some people have unlisted numbers and I'm okay with that. Some numbers I recognize, and others, I never know who's going to be on the other end of the line. That's just part of doing a live call-in show.”

“And her name is Valerie?”

“Yes.”

“You have her number?”

“Not memorized, but it would be in the log.”

The detective called someone and told the person to find the number. When he hung up, he started questioning her father again.

The woman paced to the foot of the stairs and Amy pulled back a fraction. She wasn't quick enough. The woman's eyes caught hers. And softened. She came closer. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Amy brushed her hair back and tucked a few strands
behind her left ear. The woman had very pretty eyes. Stacy pressed up against her and Amy took comfort in her presence.

“I guess you want to know what's going on, huh?” the woman asked, her gaze bouncing from Amy to Stacy, then back to Amy.

“Yeah.” She shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if she was going to be in trouble.

“I'm Olivia.”

First names? Cool. “This is Stacy and I'm Amy. We're twelve, but I'm going to be thirteen next Saturday. I'm planning to have a really cool party. My dad's letting me invite ten people to spend the day on the boat and the lake, then me and Stacy are going to spend the night in our special place.”

Olivia nodded. “I've heard a lot about you, Amy. It's nice to finally talk to you a bit. And your party sounds absolutely perfect. I think you'll have a wonderful time.” She smiled and Amy thought she saw a dimple in her left cheek. It made her seem more approachable and nice.

“It's very nice to meet you,” Stacy said.

“You too, Stacy.”

Amy glanced over Olivia's shoulder to see her father shooting her a frown even while he was still talking to the other man. A police detective, if the badge and gun on his belt told her anything. He wasn't dressed in a uniform, but had on black pants and a gray button-down polo shirt. He was good-looking in spite of being old like her father. She looked back at Olivia. “Interesting. Because I haven't heard a thing about you. Who are you?”

“She works for me.” Amy turned to see her grandfather standing behind her. His deep scowl pulled his salt-and-pepper eyebrows low so they practically met at the bridge of his nose.

“Doing what, Pops?” Amy crossed her arms and met him glare for stare. Her grandfather might scare some people to
death with his intimidating laser-beam look, but she knew she had him wrapped. He was the one person who could make the panic attacks go away with a simple touch or a hug.

“Making sure your dad stays safe.”

“And why didn't I know he
wasn't
safe?”