Laura Scott - Twin Peril

“Me, too,” Mallory chimed in.

While they waited for their order, he began to search for recent information about Anthony Caruso.

“Do you know what we’re looking for?” Mallory asked.

“A needle in a haystack,” he muttered. His computer skills were decent, but attempting to breach the security of a state senator’s home computer probably wasn’t smart, especially on a public network, so he refrained. Thinking clearly wasn’t easy with Mallory glued to his side. He hadn’t been this distracted by a woman in a long time.

And he shouldn’t be now, while he was in the middle of a case.

They took a break from the computer search when their food arrived, and thankfully Mallory went back to her side of the booth. Neither of them said much as they ate. His original plan was to stay at the café and work while Mallory went back to the room to get some sleep. But exhaustion was already weighing him down.

Once they’d finished breakfast, Mallory again abandoned her side of the booth to slide in beside him.

“Why don’t you cross-reference Caruso’s name with Jefferson’s?” she suggested.

He typed in the two names, and the first item to come up was a newspaper article regarding a charity event that had been held a week ago, down at the Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee. When a color photo bloomed on the screen, he heard Mallory gasp softly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. And then he noticed the slender woman in a deep blue gown standing off to the side. The photographer had only caught her back, but the woman’s short, curly blond hair matched Mallory’s. He glanced over at her as he lightly tapped the computer screen. “This is you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I attended the event with Anthony—he’s in the photo, too, right here, but you can’t see him very well.” Her face had gone pale as she stared at the photo.

“Did you remember something from that night?” he pressed, watching her carefully. “Maybe another conversation you overheard?”

“Anthony was angry when this guy came by to take our pictures. In fact, at the time I thought he was completely overreacting when he had stomped over to the photographer, demanding the photo be erased from his digital camera. Of course the camera guy had refused, and Hugh Jefferson had come over to calm down Anthony. Anthony and Jefferson went off to talk, and the next thing I knew, the entire incident was glossed over. When I asked Anthony about it later, he told me not to worry about it, because Jefferson convinced the cameraman not to list his name.”

He frowned and glanced back at the photograph he’d enlarged on the screen. “Strikes me as odd that the senator didn’t want his picture taken. Normally politicians love to be splashed all over the media.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I thought it was odd, too. In fact, up until that point, I hadn’t heard Anthony raise his voice to anyone. I think that was partially why I listened to his phone conversation the next night. He was always so smoothly charming.”

He swiveled in his seat to stare at her. “Are you telling me this charity event was the night before you overheard him trying to cover up Councilman Schaefer’s murder?”

“Yes. The benefit was on Thursday night, and I overheard the conversation the next day. We’d originally made plans to have lunch, but then Anthony backed out, saying something important at work had come up. Next thing I knew, he was talking about covering up a murder.”

His gut clenched when he realized how lucky she’d been to get away from Caruso’s thug not just once, but twice. He was thankful Mallory had managed to get away, or the outcome of Wasserman’s attack could have been very different.

God was definitely watching over her. Watching over both of them.

And this time, he wouldn’t mess up like he had the night his partner had died.

Please, God, give me the strength and the knowledge to keep Mallory safe.

He stared at the surprisingly clear photograph. It was easy to recognize Senator Caruso now that she’d pointed him out. But why would the guy go to a public charity event only to become upset when he was photographed? None of this made any sense.

Had something else happened that night? Something significant enough to put Caruso on edge? Something that may have sent the entire house of cards that Jefferson built tumbling to the ground?

His blood ran cold.

What if Mallory had become a target not just because she’d overheard Caruso’s patio conversation, but because she saw or heard something with even more significance? Something so damaging, Caruso had no choice but to silence her forever?

THREE

Mallory rubbed the back of her neck. Holding her head at an awkward angle in order to read Jonah’s computer screen was giving her a neck ache to match her headache.

They were crazy to think they might find something on the internet that would lead them to incriminating evidence against Anthony Caruso. She eased away from Jonah and reached for her orange juice.

She was too exhausted to do any more surfing and Jonah must have been, too, since he shut down the computer and pulled out his wallet to pay the bill.

“I have some cash, too, if you need some,” she offered.

He scowled, apparently chauvinistic enough to dislike the idea of a woman paying her own way. “I’m fine. Let’s go. We both need a couple hours of sleep.”

She followed him out of the café and across the street to their motel rooms. He opened the door, checking to make sure the room was safe before he stood back and allowed her to go inside.

“Keep the connecting door unlocked, okay? Just in case.”

Just in case what? She suppressed a shiver. “There’s no way the ski-mask guy could have followed us, right?”

“No. But we can’t afford to let down our guard,

either. Just humor me, okay?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Okay.”

Jonah stared at her for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he turned and disappeared inside his room. She partially closed the connecting door on her side, before testing out the running water in the

bathroom—which was pure bliss—and then climbing into bed. She fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow.

Mallory had no idea how long she slept, but much like the night before, a strange sound dragged her awake. She stayed perfectly still, straining to listen.

She heard it again. A muffled sound coming from Jonah’s room. She climbed from her bed, pulled on her grungy clothes and pushed open the connecting door.

Jonah was talking in his sleep, thrashing on the bed, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. She crossed over to shake his shoulder. “Jonah, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

Almost instantly, he shot upward and grabbed his gun. She shrank away, holding out her hand to calm him down. “It’s me, Jonah. Mallory. I was only trying to wake you up from your nightmare.”

He slowly lowered his weapon, letting out his breath in a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I— You took me by surprise.”

He avoided her gaze. A faint sheen of sweat covered his face and dampened the hair at his temples. Definitely a nightmare. “Jonah, who’s Drew? You were muttering something about Drew.”

His expression closed, and she sensed that whatever the source of his nightmare, he wasn’t inclined to talk about it. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No need to apologize.” She noticed with surprise that the Gideon Bible was lying open on his bedside table. Had Jonah actually been reading the Bible? The only person she knew who’d ever read the Bible on a regular basis was Alyssa.

He must have noticed her gaze because he flashed a lopsided smile. “Renewing my faith helps me relax, especially in times of stress. You might want to give it a try.”