Serial Threat Page 2

  When Rowlings looked to her and said, “You do the debriefing and write me a full report, Zwalt,” Emily had to stop herself from reacting. This was not the time to appear anything but professional, particularly concerning Noah Holden, yet inside she was both elated and nervous. Outside, where all could see, she was as cool as a glass of sweet tea on a summer’s day.

  Facing Noah, she swept an arm toward the parking area. “My car’s back there. Shall we?”

  “As long as you promise to let me out when we’re done.” This time, his lopsided smile brought a familiar twinkle to his eyes and made her stomach lurch. This was the Noah she had known ten years ago, the man who used to make her teenage heart race with a glance, yet who had remained oblivious to her blossoming devotion. He’d broken her heart by leaving town without a goodbye and had stayed away until now. Whatever tenuous connection they may once have had, it had vanished long ago.

  Emily led the way to the car and opened the passenger side for him. “Please.”

  Shrugging, he slid in, leaving one foot on the pavement so she couldn’t slam the door.

  “Don’t be afraid, Mr. Holden. You’re not under arrest.”

  “Never was,” he said nonchalantly. “You didn’t read me my rights.”

  Emily circled to the driver’s side and positioned herself behind the wheel. If Noah had been anyone else, she would have questioned him outside the vehicle where she’d have had full access to her weapon, but this was different. He was different. And, truth to tell, so was she.

  “Name, address and phone number?” she asked, ready to type it into the car’s computer station.

  He rattled off that information, then went on. “Age thirty-two, attorney at Max Maxwell and Associates for the time being, happily unmarried and no pets. You?”

  “I’m the one asking the questions, Mr. Holden.”

  “There you go with the Mr. again. Why?”

  “Because I’m an officer of the law, and you’re a suspect.”

  “Your chief seemed to think otherwise. Do you disagree?”

  “The Noah Holden I used to know wouldn’t hurt anyone,” she said. “I was afraid Cal might shoot you when you refused to cooperate with him.” She waved her hands as if erasing an invisible whiteboard. “Forget I said that.”

  Noah was chuckling. “Not in a million years. I always did love your candor. Glad to see that hasn’t changed. And thanks for stepping between me and the gun, by the way.”

  “You noticed.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s a side of you that’s new to me. How long have you been a police officer?”

  “Two years.”

  By keeping her eyes on the computer screen, Emily was able to control her expression. At least, she hoped she was. Rationalizing helped. After all, this was an acquaintance from her past. It was normal to be glad to see him again. “For the record, tell me everything, starting with your reason for being in town.”

  “You heard your chief. I came back when Maxwell’s office assistant contacted me about his stroke. He had invited me to join his practice in the past, and I’d always put him off. This time I had no choice. I had to come.”

  “So your presence in Paradise is temporary?”

  “I sure hope so.”

  Emily noticed that his focus had changed, and he was gazing out the windshield at the crime scene tape being strung from tree to tree, so she asked, “Tell me about this client who’s supposed to have called you tonight.”

  She’d phrased her query that way to goad him. He didn’t take the bait. “Buddy Corrigan. Barely out of his teens. He was arrested for drunk driving and vandalism. I’m representing him pro bono on Max’s orders.”

  “How did he get your private number? I assume that’s how he reached you at home in the middle of the night.”

  “Yeah. My mistake. I don’t usually share personal information, but he looked like such a good kid, I let down my guard.”

  “I learned a long time ago to avoid doing that. It’s tough enough staying anonymous in a small town.”

  “Tough? It’s impossible. Why do you think I joined a practice in St. Louis? I hate small towns.”

  Emily finally let herself smile. “Too bad. I love it here. Wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”

  “Whatever floats your boat,” Noah quipped, starting to lean toward the open door. “Are we done?”

  “I think so.” Saving the file, Emily got out. “We’ll know where to find you if we have more questions.”

  Walking around to his side of the patrol car, she offered to shake his hand. Hers was extended toward him when the sound of a gunshot echoed across the rolling hills. A side window of the cruiser shattered.

  Emily yelled, “Get down!”

  When Noah didn’t duck fast enough, she took him to the ground with a body slam that knocked the wind out of both of them.

  “I said, get down.”

  Coughing and gasping, he stared up at her. “Was that a gunshot?”

  “Yes.” This wasn’t the right time to lecture him, so she held her tongue while she levered herself to her knees. “Are you going to be sensible and stay down there, or do I have to cuff you after all?”

  Hands held above his head as if in surrender, Noah said, “I’m good. Go get ’em, Officer.”

  Emily didn’t waste time being offended, nor did she laugh. It was troubling to hear Noah joking about being shot at, but she had bigger problems right now. They all did.

  * * *

  Noah felt a pang of concern as he watched Emily draw her gun and join the charge toward the supposed origin of the gunshot. What a crazy profession. Sensible folks ran the other way when they were being shot at. He certainly would have if he hadn’t been so shocked. Had to give Em credit for her reaction time, though. Boy, was she fast. And effective, he thought, rubbing the back of his head where it had slammed into the asphalt and brushing tiny chunks of safety glass off his jacket.

  Raised on one elbow, he looked around. Court cases had taught him the protocol of a murder investigation. A uniformed officer had remained with the body, as had somebody with a camera who was taking crime scene photos prior to the arrival of forensic technicians. Other than that, being basically alone, he decided to take shelter in the police car.

  A shotgun was clamped upright between the front seats. Noah would have picked it up if it hadn’t been locked in place. Nearly every kid who grew up in Paradise knew how to shoot and handle guns safely, including him, and for the second time that night, he wished he was armed.

  His thoughts drifted to the victim he’d stumbled over. She was young. And pretty. And very, very dead. If he believed for a second that Buddy had called to set him up for the murder, he’d drop the guy like the business end of Taser wires, Max or no Max. The thing was, he couldn’t see that dumb kid coming up with something so devious.

  Since Noah was hunkered down in the seat, he failed to notice anyone’s approach until a gun barrel appeared in his peripheral vision and a gruff male voice ordered him to raise his hands. “Hey, I’m just an innocent bystander,” he said. “I ducked in here when the shooting started.”

  “You’re not a cop?”

  “No way.” Quelling the urge to announce his profession, he fell silent instead. If he turned his head slightly, he could probably see the mirror image of whoever was holding the gun on him. If this man wasn’t with the police department, however, his face might be the last one Noah ever saw. He wasn’t willing to take that chance.

  Seconds became minutes. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and one trickled into his right eye. The longer he sat there with his hands raised, the more he was sure he wasn’t being confronted by a police officer.

  Finally, he’d taken all the stress his nerves would stand. “Can I put my hands down now?”

  There was no answer. Noah chanced a sidelong glance, then turned his head. No gun, no gunman, no more threat. “Whew.”

  His ragged breathing had not yet returned to normal when Emily returned. She was gesturing and speaking loudly before she reached him. “All clear. Chief says you can go. We know where to find you.”

  Noah got out, remaining close to the open car door. “Not until you dust this window frame and the metal around it for prints. Somebody just threatened me with a gun, and he may have left clues on the car.”

  “Not funny.” Emily made a face of disgust.

  It hadn’t occurred to him that she might doubt his story. He grabbed her wrist when she reached toward the door handle. “Don’t touch that. I’m not kidding.”

  The way she was looking at his grip told him it was putting her off. Well, tough. This was serious. Deadly serious.

  “I’m not playing games with you, Em.” Noah made eye contact without a flinch. “Somebody, a man, held a gun to my head while you were gone. When he found out I wasn’t a cop, he disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? Like, poof?”

  “No. Like I wasn’t worth wasting a bullet on.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “I never saw him. I was turned away when he showed up. All I could see was what looked like the edge of a finger resting on the window frame.”

  “Where, exactly?”

  Noah pointed.

  “Okay.” She radioed her chief and was told to protect the possible prints until a member of the evidence team got to her.

  Finally, she asked the question Noah had been waiting for. “Are you all right, Mr. Holden?”

  “No.”

  “No?” The pitch of her voice rose. “You’re injured?”

  “Yes. My pride has taken a terrible beati
ng. Worse than being shot at and blamed for murder, an old friend is refusing to speak my name.”

  “Your friend is probably concerned about proper protocol.”

  That was almost enough to make him laugh despite the scare he’d had. He did allow himself a slight smile. “Hmm, maybe she’s forgotten where we are. This is Paradise, Missouri, just slightly bigger than your average mud puddle with a population you could jam into four or five school buses, if you had to.”

  There was no corresponding smile on Emily’s face when she said, “It’s also the town where somebody has been dumping the bodies of female victims, all in their early twenties, all with blond hair and blue eyes, just like the one you found.”

  Noah could see how empathetic she was and rued his joke. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. You should have told me.”

  “You had no need to know.”

  “So why tell me now?”

  Sadness in her expression touched him deeply and made him want to reach out to her, to comfort her with a supportive embrace. He was wise enough to squelch the impulse.

  “I told you because I think you’re in this mess up to your eyeballs, Noah, whether you realize it or not.”

  There was no way he was going to argue with her, because he agreed. How or why was still unanswered, but like it or not, she was dead right.

  THREE

  “Chief Rowlings will probably want to speak to you himself,” Emily told Noah.

  “How long has this Paradise crime wave been going on? I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  “Very few people outside law enforcement have. We’re trying to keep a lid on it for as long as possible.”

  Emily noticed he was striking the same nonchalant pose he’d used in dealing with the chief and guessed it was standard, especially in potentially touchy situations. When he said, “Is that fair to vulnerable young women?”, she was sure he cared more than his body language indicated.

  “Chief Rowlings makes important decisions like that,” Emily said. “It’s above my pay grade.”

  “I imagine that’s a relief.”

  “It is.” Idle chatting seemed inappropriate for their situation, yet Emily hated to end it. “We’ll need all the information you have on Buddy Corrigan.”

  “Most of what I know came from police files and court proceedings.”

  “Just the same, I know the chief will want to see any notes you may have made and hear any conversations you recorded.”

  Noah chuckled wryly. “You know I can’t share that. Client privilege prohibits it.”

  “I figured it was worth a try, considering. You were shot at, and a gun was held to your head.”

  “And both times I was in or near a police car.”

  “True.” She had to give him points for discernment. “But don’t forget how you ended up here at the park.”

  “I’m not likely to.” Noah pushed back his cuff to check his watch. “It’s probably too early to roust Buddy, but I intend to get to the bottom of this. He’d better have a good excuse.”

  “Do you really think he’s involved?”

  “I can’t imagine how or why,” Noah said.

  Emily had come to the same conclusion. Nothing about the small-time lawbreaker pointed to a violent nature. “Did you recognize his voice on the phone?”

  “Can’t say I did. The caller sounded scared, though.”

  “That’s pretty weak proof. Whoever it was may have been forced into it.”

  Judging by the rising arch of Noah’s brows and tilt of his head, he hadn’t considered that possibility and was far from accepting the concept. “Why? I haven’t been back in town long enough to ruffle feathers, let alone make somebody mad enough to want to frame me.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  “And you haven’t given Buddy any reason to do this to you?”

  “Of course not. I got him out on bail.”

  Emily sighed, folded her arms across her chest and stared at him solemnly. “You do realize that the only thing left is to consider that you may be guilty, right?”

  * * *

  Trusting the letter of the law to bring fairness only went so far with Noah. His studies had provided enough cases of perverted justice to leave him concerned, and so far he’d been unable to wipe Emily’s comment from his thoughts. Was that why she’d made it? Was she trying to get him to help her solve the crime, or did she actually believe he could commit murder? The former was ridiculous, and the latter was not acceptable, either.

  A brief internet search gave him her home address but no phone number. That wasn’t unusual since most folks these days used cell phones, so what he decided to do was pick up Buddy, question him about the call, then take him over to Emily’s. It didn’t matter whether the guy admitted or denied it. At least Noah would have living proof. That should allay suspicion until his phone provider was able to come up with a list of his call activity. Then all he’d have to do is prove he hadn’t attacked and killed the victim after he got to the park.

  He located Corrigan having breakfast in a local diner just off the Paradise town square and joined him in a back booth. “Hey, Buddy. How’s it going?”

  “Great. I didn’t get fired ’cause you got me sprung, and I only missed a day’s work.”

  “Good.” Noah signaled the waitress by turning over the clean cup waiting on the table and lifting it in her direction. As soon as he had his coffee, he refocused on Buddy. “So, why did you call me last night?”

  “Huh?” The younger man stopped shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth.

  “Last night. About 3:00 a.m.”

  “I didn’t call nobody last night.”

  Noah sipped his hot coffee and observed his client. Either this guy was the best liar he’d ever met or he truly had no idea what was going on.

  “You hear about the murder?”

  That sent Buddy leaning back as far as the booth would allow. “What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t ask me to meet you in the park last night?”

  Buddy raised both hands. “No way. Honest. All I’ve been doing since the judge cut me loose is mindin’ my own business.”

  “Okay.” Noah nodded and drank more coffee, biding his time. “What hours do you work today?”

  “Two to nine. Why?”

  “Because when you finish here, you and I are going to take a little ride.”

  Wariness painted Buddy’s face, and Noah noted his clenching fists. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do.” Noah picked up the bill lying on the table and stood to pull out his wallet. “Finish your breakfast. I’ll leave the tip and take care of this for you. Meet me outside.”

  If he had had the slightest inkling that his client would duck out the back door instead of joining him, he would have stayed, drinking coffee, for as long as it took. Unfortunately, by the time he’d finished at the cash register and turned around, Buddy’s table was already empty. Adding insult to his good deed, the bills he’d left for the tip were missing, too.

  More than a little disgruntled, Noah replaced his tip and straight-armed the swinging half doors leading to the kitchen. Two cooks were tending a grill. “Did you see Buddy Corrigan run through here?”

  All he got was a couple of noncommittal shrugs, so he kept going and checked the alley. Other than smelly trash, the area was deserted. So was the side street.

  Ideas were jelling as Noah climbed into his car. He’d make a couple of passes through town, just in case he could spot Buddy, then head for Emily’s house. Yes, his excuse for visiting had disappeared, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go talk to her. Maybe, if he made friendly overtures, she’d be less likely to suspect him of committing a crime.

  Disgusted by that train of thought, Noah grimaced. He’d never been a manipulative person in his private life even though doing so was necessary to convince prosecutors and juries. Had learning to do that changed his outlook on life in general?

  For a brief moment, his sentiments came into question. He banished doubt by reminding himself he was doing the job to which he had dedicated himself—helping the downtrodden and innocent. That was his calling, the special gift he had vowed to use for good when he’d been deeply moved by the evident need.