Kathleen Long - When a Stranger Calls

Lindsey’s world turned to black.

Matt had always had a bit of a temper. He could admit it. Hell, he came by it honestly, yet not from his dad. From his mother. The woman was a hothead the likes of which South Philly would probably never see again.

Be that as it may, right now every deep breathing trick he knew did nothing to calm the frustration ignited by his visit to Lindsey Tarlington.

How could she stare at him like an ice princess and pretend she didn’t care about the package she’d been left? She had to care. Had to.

How could she not?

By all accounts, Lindsey had dedicated her life to helping others solve mysteries. Her mother’s disappearance had been one of the biggest mysteries to ever hit the region.

Of course, Lindsey believed his father had been the murderer. Matt believed anything but. Now, he had only to convince her to listen to him.

The light at the intersection ahead changed from yellow to red. He slowed his SUV to a stop and glared at the notes tossed on the seat beside him.

He knew where the woman lived. That’s probably where she’d gone. The little blond guard at the office hadn’t offered any information when he’d called back other than that Lindsey had left shortly after their meeting.

He knew he’d gotten to her. The facts plain didn’t add up. He was no detective, but he wasn’t stupid. And, neither was Lindsey Tarlington.

He pulled a U-turn when the light turned green, headed back toward the other side of town.

Matt glanced down at the address scribbled on a scrap of paper. Fifty-two Elm. How very suburban.

His father’s conviction had shattered his mother’s dream of escaping the city to move across the river to New Jersey.

Bitter anger rekindled in Matt’s gut, like a slow-burning ember he could never quite put out. He blinked, willing the heat to go away. It wasn’t Lindsey Tarlington’s fault he and his family had lost everything trying to defend his father. It was the system’s fault. The system he now worked to keep fair.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of the house. A bright blue compact car sat in the drive.

He eased out of his truck, straightening to his full height. His father had not killed Camille Tarlington. The killer had gone free and, for some reason, had chosen to wait seventeen years to resurface. Matt intended to find out why—and who.

He climbed the center steps, rapping the brass knocker loudly against the weathered wooden door.

Something sounded inside, and he pressed his ear to the cool surface, trying to make out the noise.

Not a voice, but a moan. A whimper.

“Ms. Tarlington.”

The noise sounded again, this time even more faint.

Matt tried the doorknob and it turned, unlocked. He pushed open the door, stepping inside as he did so.

Lindsey lay facedown, her black hair splayed across the marble foyer.

He dropped to his knees, sliding to a stop next to her motionless body. He checked for a pulse. Solid.

“Ms. Tarlington.” He brushed several silken strands from her colorless face.

Matt’s gut caught, twisting hard. Had the killer done this? He glanced around the foyer, from archway to archway, all leading to other areas of the large house where the attacker might still lurk.

He should search. He should get Lindsey out of the house. He should do more than just hold her, but at the moment, his instincts told him that’s exactly what she needed. His instincts also told him whoever had done this was long gone.

Matt pulled his cell phone from his pocket, punching in 9-1-1 then quickly giving the address and details to the dispatcher. With his free hand, he reached for Lindsey’s, intertwining her slender, soft fingers with his own.

Protectiveness hummed to life deep within him—a determination to find whoever had done this and make sure he never had the chance again.

Lindsey’s lush black lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks and she moaned, the sound nothing more than a soft cry. Matt pressed his lips close to her ear, inhaling her soft floral scent. “Stay still. Help’s coming.”

“Shoved me.” The words slipped over her lips, like the murmurings of a sleepwalker.

“Don’t try to talk.” Matt squeezed her hand tighter, willing her to hang on.

Her eyes flashed open like huge saucers of sky, frightened, slowly focusing on his face.

“It’s Matt Alessandro. You’re safe now.”

“You shoved me.”

Lindsey’s accusation slammed him like an oncoming freight train. “No.” He shook his head as he uttered the one-word response, stunned she could think him capable.

A shadow of doubt glazed her stare, and reality settled in, chilling Matt to the core.

Lindsey Tarlington eyed him as if he were a killer’s son, but then, why wouldn’t she?

In her eyes, he was.

LINDSEY WOKE TO THE sensation of someone squeezing her hand. Rugged male features flashed through her mind. Hazel eyes. Sharp jaw. Piercing gaze.

Matt Alessandro.

Fear seized her, and she jerked her arm, trying to free herself from his grip.

“Hey, hey.” A soothing male voice slipped into her consciousness. Familiar. Gruff. “Who you fighting now, peanut?”

She forced open her eyes, relief coursing through her as she met the familiar, yet concerned, pale gray eyes. “Uncle Frank?”

He leaned to press a kiss to her temple.

“It must be bad if they dragged you away from city hall.”

His warm laughter rumbled through the small room. “At least that wit of yours is still intact.”

Pain pulsed through Lindsey’s skull. She could remember the moment of impact but nothing after. She scanned the room, taking in the small, sterile details. Chrome, tile, plastic. The walls and floor a bland mixture of teal and cream. “Where am I?”

“Cooper Hospital.” Her uncle’s voice had gone uncharacteristically gentle. “Doctor says you’ll be fine. They’re going to keep you overnight, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

“What happened?”

Her uncle shook his head, his features falling slack. “Matt Alessandro found you, Lindsey. He took care of you until help got there. You really took a fall.”

Alessandro? A fall? Lindsey’s pulse quickened. “He shoved me from behind.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“I felt him.”

“Did you see him?”

Lindsey rankled at the disbelief palpable in her uncle’s voice. “I saw a shadow.”

“You were unconscious when Alessandro found you. Maybe you simply blacked out. Only thought you saw a shadow.”

Incredulity flooded through her. “You can’t believe that.”

He nodded, his pale gaze narrowing in an obvious attempt at sympathy.

“What about the ring?”

Her uncle frowned, tiny creases framing his surprised stare. “Ring?”

“Mommy’s ring? I found it right before I was attacked.”

The lines of his face deepened. “There was no ring. No evidence that anyone had been in your house. We had our best team out there just to be sure. You fell, peanut.”

She shook her head, wincing as a fresh band of pain wrapped its fingers around the side of her skull. “You missed it then. Her ring was there in an envelope.”

“No.” His tone dropped to the low, all-business timbre she’d dreaded ever since he’d married into the family. “No ring, honey.”

Lindsey swallowed, unable to believe her uncle would doubt her word. “Then someone took it.” She struggled to sit up, but had to settle for merely shifting against the pillows, too sore to do anything more. “Whoever shoved me took it.”

Anger flashed across his now stern features. “Tony Alessandro took your mother’s ring seventeen years ago.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d like to find the monster who left you that copy last night. It’s brought back your old nightmares.”