Point of Danger Page 8

  “What’s Cate’s specialty?”

  “Eating.”

  A chuckle erupted from his chest. “I have a feeling she and I would hit it off.” He motioned toward the door. “Are you hanging around here for a while or taking off?”

  “Taking off.”

  “Why don’t I walk you out?” He couldn’t offer round-the-clock protection, but he could see her to her car.

  “You don’t have to bother.”

  “It’s no bother.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he crossed to the door, opened it, and waited.

  She propped a hand on her hip and squinted at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not giving me a choice?”

  Because he wasn’t.

  But Eve wouldn’t tolerate high-handedness. That much was already clear to him. Better to reposition his “offer” and let her make the smart, rational choice—which she would, given everything he knew about her.

  “If you prefer to walk out alone, I’m not going to stop you—but I don’t know why you’d turn down an armed escort.” He pushed his jacket aside to reveal his Sig Sauer.

  Her gaze dropped to his weapon. Returned to his face. “Excellent point. I’m ready whenever you are.” She picked up the tote bag from beside her chair and eased past him.

  The ride down in the elevator they shared with several other people was silent, but as they walked to her car she spoke again. “They do have decent security in the garage, you know.”

  Given the downtown location and the crime rate in the city, that wouldn’t surprise him.

  But decent wasn’t adequate if someone was determined to get in.

  And he suspected she knew that.

  His assumption was validated moments later when a car backfired and she jerked, losing her grip on her tote.

  After giving the garage a fast sweep, he bent to retrieve the bag.

  She did the same.

  Their heads bumped.

  “Ow!” She pulled back, rubbing her temple.

  “Sorry about that.” He handed her the tote and did another swift scan.

  Nothing was amiss.

  “I must be a little jumpy.” She clenched her fingers around the handle of the bag.

  “That’s not a negative in light of everything that’s happened. It means you’re on alert and ready to react if the situation warrants it.”

  “Or overreact.” She pointed to his forehead. “You may end up with a bruise once that red spot fades.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse injuries.” He took her arm and guided her forward, picking up his pace. “Let’s get out of the traffic.”

  She stayed close while they completed the short walk to her car—and he tried without much success to ignore the faint, spicy hint wafting from her hair.

  “Thanks for the escort.” She fished her keys out of her bag and hit the button on her autolock fob.

  “Happy to do it. I’ll be in touch if we uncover anything worthwhile—and let me know if there are new developments on your end. You have my direct number, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t hesitate to use it, night or day. I don’t punch a clock.”

  “Thanks.” She tossed her bag onto the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel.

  Say goodbye, Lange.

  He retreated a step. “Lock your doors and drive safe.”

  “Always.” She smiled. “I have a perfect record—as you must know from your background check.”

  “Keep it that way.” He hiked up one side of his mouth, turned, and headed for his Taurus.

  Behind him, her engine came to life.

  The temptation to watch her drive away was formidable—but he fought the urge. It was important to maintain a professional distance.

  And not just because she was the victim of a crime he was investigating.

  Getting close to any woman wasn’t in his plans.

  An extreme position, admittedly, given that most of his colleagues were married.

  Yet after what he’d put Karen through, subjecting a spouse to the constant worry of whether or not this would be the day he was killed in the line of duty didn’t seem fair.

  While the odds were in his favor . . . and the majority of law enforcement professionals played them . . . he’d come close enough to being a statistic to know there were no guarantees about tomorrow with this job.

  Maybe one of these days, if the loneliness pressing in on him these past few months became too oppressive, he’d trade his badge for a ring.

  But he’d never really given that option any serious thought.

  Or he hadn’t, until a gorgeous redhead with a passion for commendable principles entered his orbit five days ago.

  “Hi, Doug. Sorry to bother you in the middle of the workday, but I heard about the last-minute caller on Eve Reilly’s show this morning. If you have a minute, could you give me a ring and fill me in? This may deserve a follow-up to my Saturday story. I’d have texted, but I can talk faster than I can type. Thanks.”

  Doug erased Carolyn’s message and leaned back in his desk chair, phone in hand.

  Of course he’d return her call. She was in reporter mode, giving him a legitimate excuse to talk with her. But there wasn’t much he could offer. The police had no idea who’d placed that call in the waning moments of Eve’s show. A follow-up story wouldn’t warrant more than a few lines of copy.

  Still, talking to her would be the bright spot in his day.

  Another warning sign he was getting in too deep.

  And another reminder of the parallels between his situation and the one Eve had found herself in eight years ago.

  Expelling a breath, he reached around and rubbed the back of his neck.

  Much of what she’d said earlier this morning had hit too close to home.

  No, he didn’t have a wife with emotional problems. And no, he wasn’t misleading anyone about his marital status.

  Yet now that he and Alison were drifting apart and his days were filled with nothing but a myriad of family and work issues, he could relate to a guy who’d succumbed to loneliness and flirted with a clandestine romance.

  That’s why a quiet interlude each week with a pleasant companion who brought no baggage to the table was appealing—and hard to resist.

  But it was also dangerous.

  Look what had happened to Eve—and she was totally blameless.

  He was too.

  So far.

  And returning Carolyn’s phone call wasn’t going to change that.

  Before he could second-guess himself, he tapped in her number.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hi, Doug. Thanks for getting back to me.”

  As usual, her throaty voice jacked up his pulse. “No problem. I’d have called sooner, but it’s been crazy here all morning.”

  “I bet. I heard about the call from a colleague and went online to listen. What’s the story?”

  “There is no story, according to Eve.” He gave her a quick recap. “She’ll be posting all that on her blog this afternoon, so I’m not telling you anything the world won’t soon know.”

  “Do the police think this is the same person who planted the fake bomb at her house?”

  “The detective is convinced the timing is more than coincidental.”

  “How’s Eve holding up?”

  “She’s not a quitter. If we can contain this and hang on to her audience, she should be fine—but if listeners begin to desert her or ad revenues dip . . . well, radio is a numbers game.”

  “Someone thought this through.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I may do a brief follow-up article, but I’ll wait to see what Eve writes on her blog. I know she’s not talking to the press, but do you want to make any comments on the record?”

  “No. I’m hoping the less said, the better.”

  “I hear you. So what happens if the show tanks?”

  He frowned at the question. They weren’t just talking about a show here, but Eve’s career. “I don
’t think any of us have thought that far ahead yet.”

  “I can understand that. This came out of the blue. But from what I know about radio and ad revenues, if the money dries up, a show can get yanked fast. I figured you were already thinking about what to do with that potentially empty slot.”

  Like maybe give her the chance she’d been itching for to break in?

  An image of a shark circling a wounded swimmer flashed through his mind.

  It wasn’t a pretty picture.

  Doug swallowed past the unpleasant taste in his mouth, a tiny bit of Carolyn’s allure fading. While she’d made no secret of her ambition, he’d never pegged her as ruthless. As someone who would heartlessly cash in on another person’s misfortune.

  “Doug?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” He stood. “Look, I, uh, have to run. Like I said, it’s kind of chaotic here.”

  “I can imagine.” A few seconds ticked by, and her tone warmed as she continued. “I hope I wasn’t out of line asking about the future. I’d hate for you to be caught unprepared if this situation goes south. You’ve built a fabulous career and contributed a huge amount to the station.”

  “My career isn’t the one on the line here.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll let you get back to work—but I also wanted to tell you I used those ideas we discussed Monday on my podcast. If you get a chance, I’d love for you to listen and give me some feedback over lunch next week.”

  “I’ll do my best to tune in. Talk to you soon.”

  He pressed the end button, dropped the handset back into the cradle, and walked over to the window that overlooked the city six floors below.

  That had been a strange conversation.

  And it hadn’t left him feeling warm and fuzzy.

  Carolyn’s interest in a radio slot was no secret. She’d been up front about that from day one.

  But he’d never made any promises, done anything to lead her to believe she was next in line if an opening did come up. Sure, he’d consider her for a trial run if an appropriate slot ever became available—although that had always been a long shot, as he’d been careful to communicate.

  Or it had been until Eve became a target.

  Doug froze as a police car tore past the building, lights flashing, in pursuit of someone who’d stepped outside the law to achieve an end that was important to them.

  Like hosting a radio program?

  No.

  He shook his head.

  That line of thought was nuts.

  Carolyn was a smart woman and an ace reporter. She was prepping herself for a higher-profile career, but she was playing by the rules.

  And perhaps she was also playing him.

  Not an angle he’d ever acknowledged, but possible.

  Yet taking advantage of a man in the throes of a midlife crisis, while of questionable morality, wasn’t illegal. Nor did it have any connection to Eve’s problems.

  Carolyn didn’t have any connection to Eve’s problems, other than covering them for the paper.

  She wouldn’t jeopardize her career—her entire future—by doing anything risky or on the shady side of the law, even if she did have the investigative skills to dig deep into someone’s background and ferret out dirt. She was too smart to use that kind of information for nefarious purposes.

  And she was certainly too smart to plant a fake bomb.

  Yet as his phone began to ring again and the advertising manager’s name appeared on his screen, he couldn’t kill the tiny seed of doubt that had suddenly sprouted to life in his mind.

  She may have pushed too hard.

  Carolyn tapped a polished nail against her desk and slipped her cell into her purse as Doug ended their call.

  He was pulling back.

  And at this stage, with a slot in the drive-time programming on the cusp of opening, that was disastrous.

  Now, of all times, she needed him in her corner.

  She checked her watch, rose, and slung her purse over her shoulder. Unless she hurried, she’d be late for the interview she’d scheduled to flesh out tomorrow’s story on the latest scandal to rock City Hall. But letting Doug’s call roll—or rushing their conversation—hadn’t been options. Being tardy was a small price to pay for the potential payoff.

  Except Doug had rushed to end the call.

  Putting her phone to her ear to discourage conversation with any of her colleagues, she strode down the hall of the newspaper offices, mind firing on all cylinders. She had another card she could play to win his support—but it wasn’t one she wanted to use.

  She wrinkled her nose.

  Nice as Doug was, sleeping with someone her father’s age held zero appeal.

  If it helped advance her career goals, though?

  Tolerable.

  And it would be a cinch to set up. All she had to do was crook her finger and he’d fall into her arms.

  Given how well that tactic had worked when she’d been angling for a promotion to an investigative slot, there was no reason to think it wouldn’t again. The man was ripe for plucking.

  But she didn’t want to pluck him unless there was no other option.

  So the best plan was to curb her ambitions—verbally at least . . . continue to play the charm card with Doug . . . and see what kind of fallout there was from the call Eve had received today.

  Given her conservative audience, there could easily be a mass exodus of both audience and sponsors.

  That was the ideal outcome. It would open the window she’d been angling for with no further effort on her part.

  And as long as she kept Doug in her corner—her top priority for the immediate future—the opportunity she’d been waiting for could be much closer than she’d ever dared hope.

  7

  EVE GAPED AT THE TALLY on her blog post.

  Four-thousand-plus comments since her response to this morning’s caller had gone live six hours ago?

  She leaned closer to her laptop to confirm the number.

  Her eyes hadn’t deceived her. The precise figure was 4,652.

  Wow.

  She sank into the desk chair in her home office and scrolled through a few of the entries.

  They appeared to be trending favorable by a large margin.

  Excellent.

  Her cell began to ring, and she skimmed the screen before putting it to her ear. “Hi, Doug. What’s up?”

  “Have you seen the response to your blog post?”

  “I’m looking at the number as we speak. It’s phenomenal. I don’t get that many comments in a month, let alone six hours.”

  “Obviously your caller hit a hot button with listeners.”

  “No kidding.” She twisted her wrist to see her watch. “Are you still at the office? It’s after seven.”

  “I know. I asked Meg to stay late too and spot-check the comments, give us a read on positives versus negatives. But if the random sampling I did is any indication, your listeners appear to be supportive.”

  “That’s my take from the few I’ve scanned. You do realize Meg will be there until midnight culling through them for any negative remarks that may interest law enforcement—unless you rein her in. She’s super conscientious.”

  “I know. I already talked to her about a cutoff. I also assigned a couple of other people to help with the task. We can pick it up again tomorrow. Have you heard anything more from the detective?”

  “No.” Unfortunately.

  “I don’t think they have much to work with on this.” He sighed. “You doing okay?”

  “Hanging in. I did back-to-back spinning classes, and now I’m going to start stripping the hardwood floor in my living room. Physical activity is a great stress reducer.”

  “Refinishing floors definitely qualifies. I’ll let you get to it.”

  “Would you ask Meg to give me a call if she comes across any comments that raise a red—”

  Ding dong.

  She fumbled the cell and pivoted toward the hall.

&n
bsp; “Eve?”

  “Sorry.” She tightened her grip on the phone. “Someone’s at my door.”

  “Don’t open it until you’re certain it’s safe.” Concern sharpened Doug’s voice.

  “Trust me, that’s the plan.”

  “You want me to stay on the line until you see who it is?”

  She quashed her first inclination to decline. Brent’s advice to watch her back and take extra precautions was sensible. Accepting Doug’s offer would be smart.

  “Sure. Give me a sec.” She exited the office and hurried down the hall, staying in the shadows as she approached the front door and sidled up to one of the sidelights to peek out.

  Eve blinked.

  Why on earth was Grace in town in the middle of the week?

  “Eve? Is there a problem?”

  Doug’s urgency refocused her. “No. It’s my sister. Thanks for staying on the line.”

  “Glad to do it. I’ll be in touch tomorrow with a firmer handle on the tone of social media response.”

  The bell chimed again.

  “Thanks. Talk to you then.” She ended the call and opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hello to you too.” Grace breezed past, the large white bag in her hand leaving a tantalizing aroma in its wake. “Shut the door.”

  Eve complied. “Why are you here?”

  Grace stopped on the threshold of the living room to survey the walls. “Nice job. Love that shade of gray.” She continued toward the kitchen. “I brought dinner. Tell me you haven’t eaten yet.”

  “I haven’t eaten yet.” Eve followed on her heels. “Grace.”

  Her younger sister deposited the food on the island and began to unpack the bag. “What?”

  “For the third time—what are you doing here?”

  “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You never drive to St. Louis in the middle of the week. What’s going on?”

  Rolling her eyes, the youngest Reilly tucked her wavy, ginger-colored hair behind her ear and stuck her hands on her hips.