McIver's Mission (25 page)

"She didn't want the restraining order," she
admitted. "He would be angry enough that she'd left and taken his son with
her, and a piece of paper forbidding contact would only make him angrier. But
he'd hurt her and he'd threatened their child, and she was scared enough to let
me talk her into it."

She swallowed, swiped at the tears that coursed down
her cheeks. "I should have listened to her."

"What happened?" he asked, gently brushing
her hair away from her face.

"He got served with the order, and he went
ballistic." She shook her head. "Denise called me, the night they
were killed. He was at the house, banging on the door, yelling and swearing at
her. She called me—not the police—
me
. I don't know what she thought I
could do. I'm just a lawyer, for
christ's
sake. But
she trusted me, because I'd told her that a damn piece of paper could protect
her and her child. And I was wrong."

She grabbed a tissue to wipe her nose. "Brian
must have unlocked the door while she was still on the phone with me. Because
the next thing I heard was a gunshot." She squeezed her eyes shut, and he
knew she was reliving it again. "Then I heard Brian crying, and another
gunshot. Then another. Then silence.

"He killed them," Arden said. "He shot
his wife and his child, then he turned the gun on himself."

"It wasn't your fault," Shaun said.

"Wasn't it?"

"Of course not. How can you take this upon
yourself?"

"Somebody has to be held responsible for what
happened."

"How about the man who pulled the trigger?"
he suggested.

She shrugged, and he knew that no matter what he said,
she would always carry the guilt with her. He couldn't imagine the horror of
what she'd gone through, listening to the sound of gunshots over the phone
while some psycho executed his wife and child. Unable to do anything to help.

No wonder she'd fallen apart the day of the funeral.
He couldn't believe she'd managed to hold it together as long as she had, and
that she'd recovered as well as she had. He wished he could have been there for
her, was determined to be there for her now.

"There was nothing you could have done," he
said gently.

She nodded. "That doesn't make it any easier to
accept."

He knew she was right, and he didn't know what else he
could say or do to ease her mind. So he kissed her softly.

"Make love to me, Shaun. Help me to forget for a
little while."

He couldn't refuse her request. He didn't want to.

He knew she wanted to lose herself in passion, that
she was looking for an outlet for her frustration. He was determined to give
her that, and so much more. He was going to make her forget the nightmares, and
he was going to make her realize that she could count on him.

Always.

* * *

When
three weeks passed without another letter, Arden began to allow herself to hope
that her anonymous pen pal had given up. She knew that Lieutenant Creighton
believed there was a connection between the fire in her apartment and the
letters, but the police had no evidence to support his theory and no suspects
in either case. If it was the letter writer who had torched her building, maybe
that destruction had satisfied his thirst for vengeance. She still didn't know
why he was seeking revenge, but she was willing to believe that his personal
vendetta may have been satisfied.

When Marcy paged Arden at the courthouse just before
the start of a trial Wednesday morning, she was convinced otherwise.

"A bomb?" she repeated Marcy's words into
the phone, certain she must have misunderstood.

"I came in early and found the alarm had been
disconnected. I called the police right away," Marcy explained. "They
found the bomb."

Arden slumped against the wall and closed her eyes,
wondering what was the purpose in having an alarm system if it could be so
easily circumvented. "What kind of a bomb?"

"A homemade explosive device on a timer. It was
in a box on your desk."

"Are the police still there?"

"Yeah. They brought the dogs in to sniff around,
to make sure they haven't missed anything. And Lieutenant Creighton wants to
see you."

"Now?" She glanced at her watch. Court was
scheduled to start in ten minutes.

"Now," Marcy confirmed.

Arden hung up the phone and went to adjourn her trial.

As she walked back to the office, she thought that her
day couldn't possibly get any worse. She should have known better.

By the time she arrived on the scene, the local media
were there. She cursed under her breath. If this incident made the news, she'd
have no choice but to tell Nikki about the threats.

"Ms. Doherty," a reporter shoved a
microphone in Arden's face as she tried to sidestep the cameras. "Is it
true that this is the second attempt on your life within the past two
weeks?"

"I hardly think this could be considered an
attempt on my life when I wasn't even here," Arden said evenly.

"Are you denying that there have been threats
made against you?"

"No comment." She forced a smile and pushed
her way through the throng of people and into her office.

Arden called Nikki as soon as she was finished with
Lieutenant Creighton. After she'd spent the better part of half an hour trying
to alleviate her cousin's fears, she phoned Shaun's office. She knew he'd be
annoyed if he heard the news from anyone else. But he wasn't in his office, and
he hadn't returned her call by the time she was ready to leave for the day.

* * *

"I
saw you on the news," Shaun said when he got home from work later.

"My two minutes of fame," Arden said dryly,
as she continued sprinkling breadcrumbs over the top of something that looked
like a casserole. It was, he remembered, her night to cook, but that usually
meant some kind of takeout. She shoved the casserole pan into the oven, then
turned to face him. "They have a suspect in custody."

He knew that, too. "Simon Granger. An
out-of-towner with a criminal record for two previous arsons and a reputation
as a torch for hire. Do you know him?"

Arden shook her head. "The police don't believe
he's responsible for the letters. It's more likely he was hired by whoever is,
and they're hoping they can get that information from him."

"I don't think they'll get very far."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he started shouting for his lawyer as
soon as they arrested him."

Arden shrugged. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Yeah, well, this might," he warned.

"What?" she asked warily.

"When they asked who his lawyer was, he named
me."

"What … why?"

"I don't know."

She backed away from him, her eyes clouded with
confusion. "He asked for you by name?"

"Yes."

"How does he know you?"

"He doesn't." Shaun raked his hands through
his hair. "I think he was given my name by whoever hired him, to cast
suspicion in my direction."

Arden didn't respond. She only continued to stare at
him, wide-eyed and wary.

"And it worked, didn't it?"

"I don't know."

It was an effort to remain calm. He shouldn't blame
her for being suspicious of everyone and everything after all that had happened
over the past several weeks, but he couldn't help feeling disappointed that she
didn't trust him. "What possible reason would I have for tormenting you
like this?"

"I don't know," she said again. "I
can't think of a reason for anyone to be doing this."

"But you believe I could be responsible?"

"No." She looked away again, shrugged.
"Maybe."

Her lack of faith in him, in their relationship,
combined with his own frustration at the situation, were too much.
"Dammit, Arden." He slammed his fist down on the counter.

She flinched as if he'd struck her, and all trace of
color drained from her cheeks.

Her reaction only infuriated him more. He grabbed her
by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Don't look at me
like you think I'm capable of something like this."

"I've seen too much of what I didn't want to
believe someone was capable of," she told him, her voice trembling
slightly.

"You know me, Arden."

"All I know is that someone started a fire in my
apartment, and you're the only person besides myself who had a key."

He dropped his hands. "1 never asked for the damn
key."

"But you took it."

"Because I wanted to get your bookshelves done
and you were never there."

She shrugged.

"Don't you know I'd die before I'd hurt you,
Arden?" He softened his tone, pleading with her for faith and
understanding.

"I don't know anything anymore," she said
miserably.

* * *

Arden
slept alone that night.

She hadn't really expected that he'd join her in the
bed they'd shared every night for the past couple of weeks. After their
confrontation in the kitchen, he seemed intent on avoiding her for the rest of
the evening. Not that she could blame him. She'd been wrong to doubt him, and
her mistrust had hurt him.

Lying alone in the big empty bed, she realized that she'd
baited him. She'd practically dared him to fight back, to lash out at her. But
he hadn't. He'd been upset and hurt and angry, but he hadn't taken his
frustration out on her. He hadn't hit her.

She hadn't consciously been testing him; it was more
that she'd been testing herself. She knew only too well how the cycle of
violence perpetuated itself, and she'd been so afraid that she wouldn't break
free from that cycle. Her stepfather had had a quick temper, quicker fists.
Shaun might be quick to anger, but he wouldn't hurt her. She knew that now.

Relief washed over her, followed quickly by a wave of
guilt. She'd pushed him, provoked him, then turned away from him. She was
surprised he hadn't walked out on her. She certainly wouldn't have blamed him
if he had.

Had she wanted him to walk out? Had she hoped he'd
abandon her—as her father had done, as Brad had done? It would have proven she
had reason to distrust him. It would have justified her desire to maintain an
emotional distance.

But he hadn't walked out; he hadn't abandoned her. And
she realized that maybe he was different. Maybe she could trust him to stand by
her.

She found him in his den the next morning, looking as
miserable and exhausted as she felt.

"What do you want, Arden?"

She stepped farther into the room. "I wanted
to—" she cleared her throat "—to apologize."

"For what?"

"The things I said last night."

He shrugged as if it didn't matter. But she knew that
it did.

"I am sorry," she said. "I know you
aren't responsible for any of what's happened."

He looked at her now, really looked at her for the
first time since she'd stepped into the room. "Do you?"

"Yes."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" She chewed on her bottom lip,
wondering why, if it was okay, he still hadn't made a move toward her.

Finally he pushed away from his desk and stood up. He
held out his arms, and she went into them. She laid her head against his chest,
took comfort in the strong and steady beat of his heart, in the warm strength
of his arms around her.

"Why don't we go away for a while?" he
suggested.

"Why?"

"To give the police a chance to find this
guy."

She pulled out of his arms, wishing they could have
had more of a reprieve before the next round of battle. "I have
obligations, Shaun. I can't just take off."

"You won't be any good to your clients if you're
dead," he said bluntly.

She swallowed. "Are you trying to scare me?"

"You should be scared. Someone's trying to kill
you."

"You don't know that for sure."

"Why else would someone plant a bomb in your
office?"

"I don't know." And it was that not knowing
that terrified her. "Maybe there's some kind of evidence in my office that
they wanted to destroy."

"If he got into your office to plant the bomb,
why not just take the evidence?"

She shook her head. "I don't know," she said
again.

"You might be willing to take chances with your
life, but I'm not."

"If I run away, I let him win."

Shaun sighed. "Did you know that they released
Granger?"

She hadn't known, and the revelation hit her like a
sucker punch to the gut. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly.
"You—" she swallowed "—you got him bail?"