скачать книгу бесплатно
Not nearly as well as he was going to know her.
“She was just attacked out front.”
He suffered through the pat-down and rose slowly when the officer told him to get up. By then they could both hear the approaching siren. The attacker had had plenty of time to disappear.
“Okay to remove my helmet?”
“No.”
This man was no rookie. A helmet could be thrown.
Minutes later Gabe was relieved to see Cassiopia standing out front with a pair of neighbors. She appeared shaken, but unhurt. A marked police cruiser, lights flashing, pulled up. The female officer exchanged greetings with the man at his back.
“You can take it off now,” the cop told him.
Gabe removed the helmet slowly and waited. They didn’t seem to notice Cassiopia’s shocked surprise at seeing him. The cop at his back spoke before she could say anything that would have landed him in handcuffs.
“Cassy, do you know this guy?”
Instead of denouncing him, she nodded.
“Gabriel Lowe. He went after the man who grabbed my purse.”
Gabe sensed the officer putting away his weapon.
“You can lower your hands now.”
Faces continued to appear in windows as a second cruiser joined the first. A small crowd gathered to listen while Cassiopia explained what had happened. Then it was Gabe’s turn. The cops eyed his scar and treated him with wary respect as he explained his assumption that the person had gone in through the nearest gate and jumped the fence into the next yard.
“I only saw you,” her neighbor stated.
A third unit pulled into the parking area.
“He’s probably long gone, but we’d better do a sweep,” the female officer suggested.
Eventually, Gabe was allowed to retrieve his bike from the side yard. As he walked it back to the parking lot Cassiopia strode over to him.
“You followed me home!”
“No need for thanks.”
“Thank you?” She bristled.
“You’re welcome. And you might want to lower your voice unless you want to explain to the cops how we know each other.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Gabe waited.
She fumed, but lowered her voice. “Why did you follow me?”
“To see where you were going. Do you know who attacked you?”
“Of course not! You heard me tell the police he was wearing a hooded sweatshirt with a scarf over his face.”
There was no use pointing out that the one didn’t negate the other.
“Is your roommate home?”
“I don’t have a roommate.” She blinked in sudden comprehension. “Oh. The hair dye. Betsy moved out last month. She got married.”
He scowled. He didn’t like thinking about Cassiopia alone and vulnerable inside that town house.
“You might want to stay somewhere else tonight.”
“Why? He already got my purse. The house is safe. My keys were in my hand so he didn’t get them. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to go for his eyes with them.”
She would have done it, too.
“You believe it was a simple purse snatching?”
“Of cour—”
Her eyes turned to saucers. Her voice dropped even lower.
“No one knew I was going to your place tonight.”
“Not even Beacher?”
“You think that was Beacher?”
Though obviously shocked by the idea, her words were barely above a whisper.
“No.” Gabe shook his head decisively. “Too thin. Most likely a teenager or a woman.”
“A woman!”
Gabe shrugged. “Who else knew your plan tonight?”
“No one.”
Unfortunately, he believed her. “Then someone is watching you, too.”
A flash of fear.
“What do you mean? Why do you assume this wasn’t—?”
“Ms. Richards?”
CASSY SPUN TO FACE the approaching officer. In the woman’s hand was her large cloth purse. The cut strap dangled limply.
“You found it!”
“This is yours, then?”
“Yes!”
Thank God. Gabriel had been wrong after all. It had been nothing more than a simple purse snatching.
“It was on the ground behind one of the units out back. You want to check to see what’s missing?”
The bag was already open. She dug around inside a second before looking up.
“My wallet’s gone.” No surprise there.
“How much money did you have?”
“A twenty, two fives and seven ones.” She knew the exact amount down to the sixty-seven cents in change.
“Credit cards?”
Cassiopia rattled off the name of her cards while the officer wrote the information in a small notebook.
“Driver’s license?”
“No. Fortunately, I keep that in a separate folder with my health insurance card. They’re still here.”
The officer nodded. “You’d better notify your credit card companies right away.”
“Yes. Was there any sign of the person who took it?”
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
So was she. Had they caught the person, Cassy would have felt better. Gabriel’s suspicions had made her jittery. When the officer finally had all the information from her and left, Cassy turned back to Gabe.
“See? Just a purse snatching.”
His expression didn’t change. “Maybe.”
“You’re trying to scare me.”
“You aren’t stupid.”
“I’m not paranoid, either.”
His lips twisted wryly, but he gazed at her with a dark frown. “You can come back to my place if you want.”
The grudging offer widened her eyes. “Why?”
He remained silent.
“You don’t think it was a purse snatching. You think he’ll come back.” What if Gabriel were right? “But I don’t have anything.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
Shaken, she shook her head. “You’re in more danger than I am. You’re the one holding whatever Beacher gave you.”
GABE COULD SEE it was pointless to press her. He’d warned her. That was all he could do.
“I can’t go with you,” she insisted.
He replaced his helmet.
“I’m not afraid.”
His jaw tightened. “You should be.”
She stepped back on the curb as he kicked the bike to life. Cursing Beacher and everyone remotely connected to the missing toxin, Gabe turned for home.
Probably, she’d be fine. Tonight’s attack could have been exactly what it appeared to be, a kid out to rob whomever fate placed in front of him.
On the other hand, it could have been something else entirely. He hoped he was wrong. He also hoped a little of his paranoia would rub off on Cassiopia. It would be a shame for all that feminine fire to end up extinguished on a morgue slab somewhere.
He didn’t doubt for a moment that this was connected to what Beacher had given him to hold. His friend had some major explaining to do.
Halfway home he detoured to Beacher’s apartment. He’d only been there a handful of times, but he knew which unit was his friend’s. No lights showed and there was no familiar car in the parking lot.
Gabe used his cell phone and called Beacher’s number anyway. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. Next he tried Beacher’s cell phone and was immediately sent to voice mail. Gabe left pithy messages on both and text messaged his friend for good measure. There was nothing more he could do now except worry. He’d had years to perfect that ability.
As he neatened his kitchen several minutes later he debated getting the package and opening it without waiting. The size and shape were about right to hold a hard drive and a few other things, but if Beacher had found the missing toxin after all these years, surely he would have told Gabe. Either he trusted his friend or he didn’t.
Gabe went down to the basement and hesitated only a second before turning away from his display room to his workroom on the other side of the stairs. He trusted Beacher. He would wait.
The nearly completed piece he’d been commissioned to do sat on one of several worktables under a cloth. Working with his hands generally freed Gabe’s mind for thinking, but he had to force his thoughts to concentrate on the rose bush and not Beacher.
The bush was proving to be a real challenge. The pair of chipmunks beneath the bush were finished to his satisfaction. So was the general shape of the bush, but Gabe had never tackled individual leaves and roses this small before.
As his fingers stroked a small petal to life his thoughts returned to Cassiopia. Not a day had gone by that he and Beacher hadn’t tried to learn the truth of what had happened four years ago. Together and independently they had spoken to, or tried to speak with, everyone connected with the toxin. Beacher had always felt Cassiopia might know something useful, but it had been only recently that she’d agreed to talk with him.
Beacher was nothing if not persistent and knowing him, Gabe suspected his friend had begun to date her in an effort to get her to open up. She was an attractive woman and Beacher liked attractive women—but not enough to get himself engaged to one.
Cassiopia was definitely attractive. Slimmer now than he remembered, her features were more refined, but she hadn’t lost any of that temper even if she did have it under better control.
A tiny rose blossomed to full beauty beneath his stiff fingers. Pleased, he moistened his hands and worked another.
Even if they were dating, Cassiopia should have known better than to make such a ridiculous claim. Beacher engaged? Never happen. Not even to someone as interesting as her. Beacher’s little black book was filled with beautiful, interesting women. He had more listings than some telephone directories.
Gabe tackled a series of delicate leaves, marking each vein with careful precision.
