Valerie Hansen - Fatal Threat

“Good night.”

Without further delay Sara completed her climb and fitted her key in the lock. Hesitating on the landing, she waved goodbye to him, hoping her crying jag hadn’t permanently spoiled his good opinion of her. Adam had always been a reliable friend. A rock. Even if he never chose to see her as anything more than a buddy she’d have to be content.

Blanketed by her errant thoughts and feelings she broke eye contact.

Opened the door and took a step into the apartment.

Gasped. And screamed!

Adam was taking the stairs two at a time before he even realized he was moving. He burst in behind her, expecting a flesh-and-blood adversary. Instead, he was looking at the worst job of vandalism he’d ever seen. Furniture was slashed and overturned. Cupboards gaped open with their contents strewn on the floor, much of it broken. A fractured floor lamp lay across the end of the coffee table as if it had been used as a battering ram.

He pushed Sara behind him. “Stay here while I check the way I should have in the first place.”

A crimson footprint low on one wall showed clearly because someone had dumped a gallon of red paint onto the hardwood floor and stepped in the puddle before kicking anything in the way. Paint was also flung up the walls and onto the sofa. What looked like the remains of all of Sara’s clean nurse’s scrubs had been stomped into the sticky mess until the fabric was hardly recognizable.

Circling the carnage as best he could, Adam checked the small bedroom and bath before returning to her.

“Anything else?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

“Nobody’s here but us, if that’s what you mean,” Adam assured her. “Call the police.”

“I already did. They’re pulling a couple of guys off the investigation of the shooting.”

“Good. I don’t expect them to find anything out there anyway. There’s a better chance of turning up clues in here.”

“Do you think the incidents are connected? I mean, the methods are very different.”

“It’s more likely than not. Whoever broke into your apartment must have figured you’d be gone with the volunteers and he’d have plenty of time to do this damage.”

She wavered and he cupped her elbow to steady her. “You okay?”

“Not really. What am I going to do?”

“Take one thing at a time. Let’s go back down to my truck to wait for the cops. You can’t stay here.” He could tell she was staggered by the avalanche of problems. “Look, why don’t you call an out-of-town friend and see if she can put you up for a few nights? Leave Paradise until the cops have some answers.”

“And chance bringing this kind of disaster on somebody else? No way. I suppose I can get a motel room. Or crash at the hospital in the employees’ lounge.”

“Neither of those choices is any safer for you than sleeping on one of the benches on the courthouse lawn across the street,” Adam countered. A heartbeat later he added, “All right. You’re coming to the ranch with me.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He gave her his best skeptical look while wondering what she’d come up with for a plausible argument.

“Because it’s not right.”

“If it’s okay with me and my brothers I don’t see a problem. Besides, if you’re uncomfortable being alone with me I can ask Carter and his wife to give you a place to sleep over at their house.”

“No way. They have small children. I’d never take the chance they’d be put in danger.”

Adam sobered. “So you do agree this is some kind of vendetta?”

“It must be,” she answered softly. “I mean, look at my place. I won’t be able to salvage any of my uniforms and the furniture is too spoiled to use again.”

“That was yours, too?”

“Some of it was. Most came with the apartment. I didn’t need much room when my folks were still in Paradise, so I rented this place from Cynthia. Any time I started to get claustrophobic I could always drive to the farm and chill out in Dad’s woods or fish in his pond. I suppose I should have looked for another place to live after they retired and moved to California, but I never got around to it.”

“Your dad has a brother there, right?”

“Yes. And speaking of brothers, what are Carter and Kurt going to think when you show up on the ranch with a surprise houseguest?”

“I will be teased unmercifully until we tell them why you’re there, but I’m willing to take the heat if you are. Mrs. K comes in a few days a week to cook and clean for me. I can ask her to stay over if it would make you more comfortable.”

“We don’t need to add another potential victim.”

“Right.” He had been smiling as he pictured being teased. Now, he sobered and sighed. “You really can trust me, you know.”

“I know I can. It’s not you—or your brothers—I’m worried about. It’s town gossip. The Bible says we shouldn’t do anything that gives even a hint of sin because it reflects poorly on our Lord.”

“So, you’re not avoiding me?”

Sara was shaking her head and Adam spotted fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “Of course not. We’re old friends. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather count on.”

He was touched. “Thank you.”

She swayed toward him for an instant and he imagined her falling into his embrace once again. Was that what he wanted? Was it fair to get involved with her, or with any woman, when he knew the fighting and killing he’d endured as a marine had hardened his heart and changed him in ways he was still discovering?

Getting down to basics, the most important thing was staying close to Sara until whoever was causing all the trouble was unmasked. How he was going to do that when they went to separate jobs was not going to be easy. Truth to tell, nothing about his relationship with Sara Southerland ever had been, even when they were kids and he had called her a little squirt.

Adam placed a hand at the small of her back and reached toward the door handle of his truck cab. “I think you’d better sit down before you fall down. Get in.”

Her quick glance of consternation pleased him. Better she should be thinking about him than about her circumstances.

Braced with one hand on the door, one foot inside on the floorboard, Sara hesitated. “I hear sirens. Must be the police.”

“Probably, since my pager hasn’t gone off,” he replied, feeling a sense of relief, short-lived though it might be. Paradise was always quiet at this time of night, so the curious would be peering out windows or trying to learn the reason for the sirens by listening to scanners and calling friends. Soon, they’d have plenty of company on the square and he’d have an even harder time keeping Sara isolated.

The wail of the patrol cars grew louder. Sara had remained standing, half in, half out of his pickup. Watching for the police, Adam noticed a white sedan cruising past followed by a dark-colored SUV. Both drivers were moving slowly and peering out at the area around the apartment.

Hair at the nape of his neck prickled. Few locals were yet aware of the location of the break-in, so why were these drivers acting so interested?

Windows of both vehicles were rolled down, something he found a bit unusual considering the cool April night. Still, there was no law against getting fresh air.

Sara’s drawn-out “Adam...” temporarily redirected his attention to her—only she wasn’t looking at him, she was staring at the passing cars.

Suddenly her hands shot out. Her fingers fisted handfuls of his shirt like the talons of an eagle and yanked.

Adam tried to halt his fall but Sara had simultaneously thrown herself on to the truck seat, and momentum carried him down with her.