Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 (42 page)

He nearly rolled his eyes as he said it. What was she thinking? While his legal guardianship might end when she legally became an adult, he'd hardly be able to abandon her then, especially if she was trying to run that wreck of a company with no business education and precious little experience to call on. “So she thinks that all she has to do is call up some reporters, tell them she's a really a good person and then everyone will see her side and get off her back.”

“Well, right now nobody knows what to make of her,” Olivia said slowly. “A good interview in the press could do a lot to restore her reputation. Or it could backfire really badly. It all depends on how the reporter and media outlet spins it.”

“Which is why I called you. I tried hiring a public-relations firm, but she hated that. Said it felt as if they were trying to control her. And once she turns eighteen I can't prevent her from talking to the press any way she pleases.” Keeping her away from the drinking and partying lifestyle that had ruined her mother's life was exhausting enough, not to mention stopping her from sneaking out to meet up with whoever she was trying to date behind his back. “But she was open to talking to you. As a compromise. I agreed that if she liked the idea of being interviewed by you, I'd probably be okay with that. But now, judging by her reaction, I don't know what to think anymore. I'm beginning to think this was a terrible idea.”

“I understand. But you told me you didn't work for Leslie Construction besides taking a couple of shifts here and there.”

“And I was telling the truth. When I first came back to Canada I did a few one-off construction jobs to pay the bills. Between that and all the time I spent trying to track down Brian at his office and various worksites, I also know a lot of his regular guys and they know me. But I had nothing to do with how Brian ran the place. My only role as Sarah's guardian was to make sure he didn't touch her share of the inheritance. Recently, Brian wouldn't even take my calls, which was why I was waiting in the parking garage to talk to him about doing the right thing, for Sarah's sake.” A sigh rolled from his lungs. He felt as if he'd handled this whole thing so badly. But he couldn't think of anything he could have done different. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.”

“Really, it's okay. I understand.” Her tone was sad, almost bordering on resignation, and something about it rattled him, like a tiny thorn that pricked inside his chest. Then her shoulder brushed against his arm and he looked down at her face. There was a warmth in her gaze. A brightness that drew a person closer, like a campfire in the cold. A damp night breeze brushed through the open garage door, sending her hair dancing around her cheeks. Now the pain in his rib cage was so sharp he could barely breathe without feeling it pressing against in his heart.

He didn't know why.

They walked down the long, sloping driveway in silence until they reached the house. The kitchen was huge, with warm pine cabinets he'd crafted himself and a beautiful wood floor. It was the first room of the house he'd finished, as eating cold food scooped out of tin cans had quickly lost its appeal. Sarah was standing by the counter pouring herself a cup of coffee. Olivia walked over to the reclaimed wood table. The two women eyed each other.

“The other phone is in the study, just through that door there.” He pointed toward the living room door. “The study's finished, but you'll have to cross through the living room to get to it, and I'm afraid that room doesn't have a floor yet. You'll have to walk across some planks I set up over the foundation's pillars. It's only like a six-foot drop on each side. I didn't dig a basement, just a crawl space.”

“Thank you.”

“Between working to pay the bills and Sarah finishing school in Toronto, restoring the house has gone really slowly. Especially since I'm doing it all myself and pretty much just on the weekends. That door right behind you leads to the other room that's finished. Sarah's using it as a bedroom right now while I take the study. The big door beside the window is the staircase heading upstairs. It's really pretty if you like ornate wood. But trust me, you don't want to try climbing those stairs.”

He didn't quite know where the impulse to give her the grand tour had suddenly come from. But Olivia just nodded.

Then she turned back to Sarah. A professional smile spread across her gentle lips. She stretched out her hand. “I'm really sorry, we weren't properly introduced. As Daniel mentioned, my name is Olivia Brant. I'm a writer for
Torchlight News
. Daniel and I met at the diner to discuss your situation. But someone tried to abduct me, and your stepfather was kind enough to come to my rescue.”

“Former stepfather.” The teenager ignored Olivia's outstretched hand. “I hope you thanked him for bringing you out to the absolute middle of nowhere, where there's no cell service or internet access. I, for one, know I feel so much safer being somewhere I can't go online or chat with my friends.” Blue eyes, so much like her mother's, cut toward Daniel. “I've changed my mind and I'm not okay with this anymore. I flipped through those copies of the paper you gave me and decided the
Torchlight
is not my thing. It's a ragtag small-time paper and Olivia doesn't even have any good bylines.” She glanced vaguely in Olivia's direction. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Olivia pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. “I assure you, though, that you can trust
Torchlight News
with your story. While my paper might be small, it's honest, and I know a fair bit about your family and the case against your uncle.”

What must she think of him now? Knowing he once married Mona Leslie? Knowing he hadn't petitioned for a divorce after she'd left? That he'd then kept his youthful promise to his unfaithful former wife to protect her daughter all these years? The baggage of his past felt so heavy at times, and even with Sarah turning eighteen, there was no real end in sight. She still needed him, whether she wanted his help or not. He was bound to the choices he'd once made. And now he was the last kind of man who a woman would ever choose to build a life with, no matter how much his battered heart seemed to want to tug him toward Olivia.

“I really need to try to call my colleague to let him know I'm okay.” Olivia's voice cut cleanly through his thoughts. “Also, the police should be calling back soon.”

“There's a lamp just inside the office door. There are spotlights on the basement floor, too. They run on a basic extension cord.” He opened the door to what would someday be a large beautiful living room but was now just a nicely dug pit surrounded by cool stone walls. A pathway of planks lay balanced across the foundation posts. She glanced into the gloom, then crossed the boards without once hesitating or looking down.

Sarah turned back to her coffee. “I don't like her. Her newspaper is small and boring, and I don't like how she looks at you.”

Where was all this coming from? How exactly did she think Olivia looked at him? Daniel blew out a frustrated breath, and reminded himself that despite her brash exterior, here was a young woman who'd lost her mother barely four years ago and was now reeling from the death of her uncle. He glanced to the ceiling in silent prayer.
Lord, all I can do is advise and guide her. Help me find the right words to say.

“I know you're old enough to make your own decisions,” he said. “I just want you to be cautious and really think things through. Don't be too quick to dismiss Olivia. I think she's got a decent heart and isn't out to exploit you. Plus, she understands the stakes. She could've died in the same explosion and gun violence that killed your uncle, and someone just tried to abduct her at gunpoint—”

“Which should mean what to me, exactly?” Sarah folded her slender arms across her slight figure. “I mean, yeah, it's tragic and terrible, but there's no proof that any of it has to do with me, or even with Uncle Brian. She's a reporter. Someone could be after her for lots of different reasons. I'm just trying to live
my
life here, Daniel, and you're totally in controlling mode. I appreciate that you care and all, but just because you've cut me off from my friends and dragged me out here to your stupid construction project doesn't mean I'm actually in any kind of real danger. Whatever mess my idiotic uncle got himself into has nothing to do with me.” She shook her head like a stubborn pony. “And just because you've now brought some pretty little journalist here doesn't mean I'm going to give her an interview.”

* * *

The lamp was yellow, chipped and looked like the kind of relic one would find for fifty cents at a yard sale. But it was enough to cast a gentle glow in the room. A maze of rag rugs covered the cold stone floor. A paint-stained desk sat by the wall. She was almost surprised the clunky phone on top of it had push buttons instead of rotary dial. Olivia tried her answering machine first, half expecting to hear a panicked message from Ricky. There was only one message.

It was from her sister, Chloe. “Hey, little sis. I did some digging around into the Leslie Construction thing and I think you should find another story. Without going into details, that case looks big and messy, and there's more going on there than you can handle. We're talking about some pretty nasty people, and I don't want you getting hurt. So please—give this one up. Let it go. Let the people with the guns and the badges handle it. I'm sure your boss will understand and give you something easier. Okay? Call me back. Love you. Bye.”

The phone went
click
. Olivia stared at it a moment, too stunned to even hang up. It was the first time she'd heard from her sister in weeks, and all she'd gotten was a lecture about how this story was too big for her to handle. She pressed her fingers against her eyes and blinked back hot tears.

Chloe had never taken her or her writing seriously. Six feet tall, athletic, top of her class in the police college, had always treated her artistic, five-foot-one little sister as some kind of cute little nuisance who couldn't take care of herself. While their dad's employment problems had kept them moving from town to town, Olivia hadn't just idolized her big sister—Chloe was the only friend she'd had. She'd been the one person who made her feel she wasn't alone. Until Chloe had left to join the Ontario Provincial Police.

Then I found the
Torchlight News
“family.” Which I'm about to lose, too, if I don't do something to prove to Vince that I should be allowed to stay. Besides, I've already faced my share of danger and survived—

A sudden shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the feel of the thug's gun pressed up against her head. Yes, her sister could be overprotective, but surely Chloe wouldn't ask her to drop a story unless she was actually worried, would she? Except, it was too late now. She was right in the middle of this story whether Chloe believed she could handle it or not.

She needed to call Ricky. Fortunately, she could still access her address book on her phone even though she couldn't get a signal, so she was able to pull up his number and call him on the landline.

“Hey!” His voice echoed as though he was using his phone's hands-free setting. “Sorry, I know I'm running really late. I got a bit lost. Some cop pulled me over and then sent me on this ridiculous detour. But I think I'm on the right road now.”

Ricky hadn't even made it back to the diner yet? She glanced up at a clock on the wall and blinked. It had only been an hour and a half since he'd dropped her off.

“Don't worry about it. I'm not at the diner anymore.” She ran through the basics as quickly as she could—the masked man trying to force her into a car, heading back to Daniel's house, finding the photo memory card, meeting Sarah.

Ricky let out a low whistle. “Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

“So which of the three men was it? Brute, Rake or Shorty?”

There'd been so much going on she hadn't even thought to compare her attacker to the names and descriptions from the Faceless Crew website printout. “I don't know.”

“Well, was he incredibly skinny, really short or built like a brick wall?”

“None of the above.” She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the gravelly-voiced man who'd pressed a gun to her face and threatened to shove her into the trunk of his car. “He was kind of on the large side, but nowhere near as big as the really huge masked guy I seem to remember shooting Brian. He did have a mask, but more generic, not one that matched the pictures of the Faceless Crew.”

Did that mean the Faceless Crew weren't the killers—that she'd misremembered the men from the parking garage? She'd had a head injury and there had been a lot of smoke. Maybe it was only her imagination that the attackers resembled the Faceless Crew. Certainly the man from tonight hadn't matched any of the crew's profiles.

She sat down on the floor and leaned back against the battered couch. “I have no idea if Sarah's going to let me interview her. She says she's changed her mind about it, but I don't really know. She's young and kind of temperamental. Maybe I could use Daniel to get through to her.”

But even as she heard the words leave her mouth, she felt guilty. Daniel had saved her life. How could she possibly think about using him to save her job? She glanced to the window above her head. The rain seemed to have stopped for now, but thick, humid air was pressing its way through the screen.
Get a grip, Olivia
.
Daniel was nothing more to her than a potential source. She was nothing more to him than some random reporter who'd stumbled into his life, and was pretty close to tumbling right back out again. “Daniel is a really good guy, but he doesn't seem to care that as reporters we have a job to do, too. He's pushing me to turn the photo card over to the police right away, skipping Vince entirely, without even making a backup.”