In A Heartbeat (30 page)

Hank stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “I can’t exactly sit around and let someone steal the company blind.”

“You could take an inventory count,” Angie said. “The count would quantify the problem. Besides the billings would have to be current to maintain a good cutoff, and that would force the direct ship billings to be processed so we could see if there’s a problem. Plus, if Hayden inventory is being maintained off site, we’ll have a valid reason to inspect and count it.”

“Tom Wilson was planning a physical inventory for the end of December. Can we take one sooner? I don’t want to let these people steal for two more months before we do something about it.”

A car veered onto the quiet street. Angie called Oreo back to her side to deter her from chasing after the speeding car. An explosion blasted from the side window of the car. Oreo yelped.

“My God!” she yelled as each house up and down the street turned on their lights. Neighborhood dogs barked in a lively cacophony. “What was that?”

Her answer lay in a quiet bundle of fur lying on the ground. “Oreo!” she cried, rushing to her pet. Hank beat her there. The too familiar stench of blood reached her nose.

“She’s been shot,” Hank said. “Where’s the nearest vet?”

“There’s an emergency animal clinic not far from here,” she said, kneeling to get close to her wounded pet. She lifted Oreo’s head into her lap.

Her mother shouted something from the porch. Hank yelled back and took off in a run. Big sorrowful brown eyes gazed up at her. “Ssh, puppy. You’ll be all right,” she cooed, stroking the dog’s head. A tear dropped on the dog’s nose.

“Wrap this around her to stop the bleeding.” Hank spread one of her mother’s old quilts on the grass before gently lifting and placing the dog on it. He wrapped the quilt securely around the injured animal, and after Angie was situated in his car, placed the dog in her arms.

Police sirens sounded in the distance but Hank and Angie didn’t wait. Hank sped off while Angie shouted directions from the back seat.

She cradled and cooed to the dog as if she were a child. Oreo’s glazed eyes and soft whimpers tore at her heart. “Why would anyone want to hurt you? Why would someone shoot my dog?”

“Maybe they weren’t aiming for Oreo.” Hank’s clenched jaw was reflected in the rearview mirror.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe they meant to shoot me…or you.”

“No, why would anyone…?” She didn’t finish the question. It was becoming a too familiar refrain. All these “accidents” couldn’t be coincidental. But why were they happening?

Hank arrived at the emergency clinic entrance and they carried Oreo inside. The veterinarian took the dog out of Angie’s arms and rushed behind swinging doors. Hank and Angie waited in silence for the vet’s prognosis.

The captive stench of dog urine and disinfectant inside the clinic burned her eyes. She closed them for increasing stretches of time. The long stressful day pulled heavily at her limbs, and the eerie late night quiet of the waiting room lulled her senses.

“Angie. We have to talk,” Hank said, his voice deeper and closer than she’d anticipated.

She lifted her heavy lids, surprised to discover her head on his shoulder. “Bout whaaat?”

“Wake up now, this is serious.”

She rubbed at the corners of her eyes. “Can we get some fresh air? Clear my head?”

Hank told the receptionist that they’d be just outside if needed. Angie stretched, waiting for Hank before they exited at a far more leisurely pace than they had arrived.

Cold air washed over her face, invigorating her brain. Hank sat on a bench just outside the main entrance to the animal hospital. After a brief spell of arm swinging and stretching, she settled next to him.

“Do you still carry a supply of medications in your purse?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. She nodded. “Because I’ve been thinking you shouldn’t go home tonight.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, irritated. “Where else am I going to go?”

“I don’t think you should be alone.”

She audibly sighed. “We’ve been through this. Remember? You met my mother tonight. Have you forgotten already?”

He frowned. “Your mother isn’t going to stop whoever is taking potshots at you. At least, her presence didn’t tonight. They know where you live. I just think you shouldn’t be there when they come calling again.”

The attack tonight frightened her more than she cared to admit. She hadn’t talked to her mother since they had rushed to the hospital, but she imagined the whole incident had frightened her as well. “If it’s too dangerous for me to stay,” she said, “isn’t it too dangerous for my mother as well?”

Hank hesitated. “Could your mother stay with your brother a few days?”

“I suppose so.” Better her than me, she thought. “But if Mom is at Stephen’s, where would I stay?”

“With me.”

“Somehow, I don’t think my mother will approve.” She could easily imagine her family’s reaction when she told them she’d be staying with Hank.

“As much as I’d prefer your mother’s approval, that’s not my main concern.” He shifted, his face a somber mask. “Think about this logically. You won’t be alone and your mother will be safer staying with someone else. My house is large enough to accommodate you and Oreo…and your mother if she insists, although she’d be safer at Stephen’s. There’s a good chance these people, whoever they are, don’t know my address or that you’d be staying with me.”

Angie didn’t point out that someone already knew enough about their relationship to have taken a candid photo of her at his house. She was too tired to think of alternative places to stay and, in truth, she felt more protected from outside danger with Hank, than without him.

“And don’t give me that breach of independence line,” he said, obviously misinterpreting her silence. “You work for me now, remember?”

“I don’t recall that living with the boss was part of the job description.” Her lips tightened.

“I’m not suggesting you move in to share my bed.” He raised an eyebrow. “Although if you want…” The invitation dwindled away once he glanced at her face. “I guess not.” He stood. “I’m just concerned for your safety. The decision is yours to make.”

The automatic doors opened with a swoosh. “Miss Blake?” The receptionist stayed in the vestibule and called out to them. “The doctor would like to talk to you now.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE DOCTOR WANTED to keep Oreo overnight. The bullet had passed clean through the muscles of her shoulder and upper leg, narrowly missing the dog’s spine. Blood loss was a concern, but the vet assured Angela that given Oreo’s age and health, full recovery was probable with adequate time and rest. Hank drove her straight from the animal hospital to the police station to file a report.

Angie figured at this rate, she would soon know the entire Westerville police staff on a first name basis. She answered the same questions with the same vague answers. No, they didn’t know of anyone who might have a grudge. No, they didn’t see the car. It blended with the dark night. Yes, she was the same Angela Blake who had reported an earlier vandalism and attempted break-in, and yes, the same Angela Blake who’d been involved in a traffic accident earlier.

The officer sighed. “I’m not the detective, but there’s not much to go on. You two are the only ones who saw the car, yet neither of you got much of a description or a license plate.”

“It happened so fast,” Angie protested. Her plea didn’t make a difference. She shifted under the officer’s hard stare.

“Although each of your recent complaints seems insignificant on the surface,” the policeman continued. “Taken together they don’t paint a pleasant picture. Someone is trying to harm you, Ms. Blake. Yet you don’t know who or why.” He hesitated as if Angie could suddenly provide the solution to the puzzle. She couldn’t.

He turned to Hank. “You’re her boss?” It was more statement than question.

“As of today,” Hank said.

“And you just happened to be at her house at this time of night?”

“I had just taken her home after the accident,” Hank objected.

She didn’t think the officer was convinced. Even she had to admit that theirs was not the typical boss-employee relationship.

The officer turned back to her.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but if I were you, Ms. Blake, I’d take precautions. Maybe it’s a good time to go on a vacation, get out of town.”

She hardly thought that was a solution. As long as these people were on the loose, she wouldn’t feel safe anywhere. Still, the officer’s comments added credence to Hank’s analysis.

“If either of you think of anything more, call me.” The policeman placed a card on the table. “We’ve never had a drive-by shooting here before. Some things we’d like to leave for the larger cities.”

They left the station and returned to Hank’s car. Once en route, Angie bit her lip, glancing over to Hank. “Is there someone who might want to shoot at you?”

He shook this head. “Elizabeth’s father is pretty upset with me at the moment, but not enough to kill me. That would pretty much defeat his purpose.”

“And that purpose would be?”

“To get Elizabeth married off,” he stated rather succinctly.

“I wouldn’t think that would be such a difficult problem,” Angie said. “After all she’s beautiful and—”

“She comes with a lot of baggage,” Hank said. He made no explanation, provided no details.

Angela hesitated, stumbling over the question that had plagued her since they met. “Do you love her?”

“Lord, no.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “We’ve been friends since we were children, and I understand her more than most, I suppose. But love?” He shook his head.

Angie looked out the window, relieved and buoyant at his admission. The slumbering landscape rolled by in the light of an occasional streetlight. Skeletons of once lush trees stretched bare limbs toward the moon. Long stretches of darkness replaced the occasional passing house light. She sat upright with a start.

“This isn’t the way to my house.”

He stiffened. “I thought we decided you should stay with me.”

“But I need clothes, toiletries,…”

He relaxed behind the wheel. “You can call your mother and ask her to pack a suitcase. Maybe Stephen could drop it off tomorrow.” Hank steered the car up the long driveway toward the garage. “Why don’t you call her now?”

“HOW WELL DO you know this man?” Her mother asked after hearing Hank’s idea. Angie heard suspicion in her voice.

“Pretty well.” An understatement. After all they had shared, she knew Hank better than she knew her own brother.

“Do you trust him?”

“Oh yes,” she said without hesitation. She trusted him to do the right thing, the noble thing. Even if it meant marrying a woman he didn’t love.

“How long are you planning to stay there?”

“I don’t know, Mom. I guess until we find out who is responsible.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

It was a good question, but one to which she didn’t have an answer. “I wish I knew. I’m tired of police reports and I’m tired of waiting for something terrible to happen.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to take the initiative.”

Her mother’s observation hit her like an overstuffed file cabinet. She was trained to analyze. Why wasn’t she doing it now? Why was she so willing to be a victim?

“I trust you know what you’re doing, Angela. Be mindful of your heart. I’ll send Stephen with clothes and your prescriptions. Be careful and know that I love you.”

Angie clicked off her cell phone yearning for one of her mother’s hugs. They had always eased her worries in the past. A hug wouldn’t do it this time, but maybe her mother’s advice would. It was time to be proactive, to figure out who was behind this series of accidents. She would start with a list and look for a pattern. She fished a pen from her purse and glanced around the tabletops looking for some paper. Hank was nowhere in sight.

An envelope with the top slashed by a letter opener lay on one of the tables. She smiled, the very table where she had first discovered the costume boxes. The back of the envelope would have to do. She’d make a list of all the different suspicious events and dates and possible suspects. She carried the envelope around to the sofa, flipped on the light and settled in to think.

“What are you doing?”

Hank stood in the hallway with his arms full of brightly colored silks and satins. Lace spilled out from between his fingers. A fuchsia feathery boa trailed behind him. He stared at her hand.

“There you are,” she said. “I didn’t know where you’d gone. Looks like you have your hands full.”

“So do you.” His voice held no humor. She glanced at the envelope.

“You mean this?” She lifted the envelope by a corner. “I needed some paper but all I could find was this envelope. Do you mind if I write on the back? I wanted to start a list of–-”

A pale green check fell out of the slit opening and fluttered to the floor.

She picked up the check and gulped. “Five Hundred Thousand Dollars! I’ve never seen a handwritten check that large.” She looked at the payer’s name. Jim Owens.

Hank dropped his colorful bundle on the opposite end of the sofa before stepping behind her. “Bribe money. It’s the second installment.”

His breath stirred the back of her neck sending delicious tingles down her spine. She twisted around to see him. “I know you said he was paying you to marry his daughter, but five hundred thousand dollars? This is the
second
installment?”

He nodded, then sat in a wing chair across from her. “My family lost a lot of money in a stock deal on my recommendation, more money than they could afford to lose. This was my only opportunity to recoup the loss. Does the amount make my actions more palatable?”

She thought for a moment. What would she do for half a million dollars? Heaven knew she could use the money to settle debt from her operations and medications. She glanced at Hank, his eyes pleading for acceptance, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion or shame, she wasn’t sure which. Maybe she had judged him too harshly. She slid the check back in the envelope and laid it on the coffee table between them. “What are all those?” She nodded to the colorful pile of garments.