McIver's Mission (31 page)

But when he came back, it wasn't a uniformed officer
who was with him.

It was Shaun.

* * *

He
stood in the doorway, watching her. She looked so small and alone, huddled
under a threadbare blanket, her eyes focused straight ahead. Her face was
alarmingly pale, except for the dark red welt across one cheek. Anger churned
furiously inside him. Anger at the man who'd done this to her. Anger at himself
for letting it happen. For not asking Joel Logan to continue to tail Arden. He
should have been there for her. He should have protected her.

As if sensing his presence, Arden glanced over.
"What are you doing here?"

Shaun ignored her question to ask his own. "Why
didn't you call me?"

She shrugged, then winced.

He crossed the room in two quick strides and hunkered
down in front of her. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked again.

"It was my problem," she said. "And I
dealt with it."

"It doesn't work that way, Arden. Not
anymore."

"Just because I'm sleeping with you doesn't give
you the right to know every little detail of my life."

He ignored the sharp pain her words caused. He knew
she was lashing out because she was hurting inside. So he took a deep breath
and tried another tack. "Have you had that looked at?" He indicated
her swollen cheek.

"No. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. Her cheek was already starting to
discolor, but he wasn't going to debate with her about it.

"Come on." He pried the untouched cup of
coffee loose from her fingers and set it aside on the desk. "Let's get you
home and put some ice on that."

He expected her to argue some more, knew it was a sign
of how upset she was that she didn't do so. He helped her to her feet, and the
blanket slid off her shoulder. Her blouse was torn, gaping open at the front.
As much as he appreciated Creighton calling him, he wished the lieutenant would
have gone a step further and given him five minutes alone with the man who'd
done this to Arden. It was little consolation to know that her stalker was
behind bars. Not when Arden was still trembling visibly.

He picked up the blanket to cover her again.

"I need Ms. Doherty to sign her statement,"
Creighton said.

"Tomorrow." Shaun's tone brooked no argument.
"Right now I'm taking her home."

So Shaun took her home, and he put ice on her swollen
cheek. He heard her quick indrawn breath as the cold towel contacted her flesh,
but she didn't pull away.

"I don't need you to take care of me," she
told him.

"I know. But I want to take care of you." He
kissed her softly. "Let me take care of you." He brushed his lips
over her cheek. "Please."

He felt her body yield slightly, heard her soft sigh.

"Just for tonight," he said.

"I don't want to need you," she told him.

"Do you?"

She closed her eyes, her response little more than a
whisper. "Yes."

That single word filled him with unspeakable pleasure.
It was hardly a declaration of undying love, but he knew it was a big step for
Arden. And it gave him confidence that they might finally be able to move
forward together.

Chapter
18

«
^

F
or
the first time in her life, Arden called in sick the next day. She didn't have
any court scheduled, and Marcy assured her that she could handle the afternoon
office appointments. Still, Arden was uneasy about neglecting her professional
responsibilities to deal with a personal crisis.

When Shaun suggested that he stay home with her, she
put her foot down. She wasn't going to fall apart, and if he respected her
needs, he'd leave her alone for a while. So he'd gone to his office, although
she knew he'd done so reluctantly.

She did need some time alone, to think about
everything that had happened and to reevaluate. There had been several
occasions in their short relationship when Arden had thought Shaun would walk
away, more than a few when she'd expected him to. But he'd stood by her. Not always
quietly, not without question, but he'd always been there for her. She knew he
always would be.

He'd changed her life, just by being a part of it. By
loving her. She wasn't sure what kind of miracle had allowed that to happen,
but she was grateful. And still a little bit afraid.

Every time she'd let herself believe someone loved
her, they'd hurt her. Her father had loved her, then he'd died and left her.
Her mother had claimed to love her, but she'd signed over custody without so
much as a backward glance. Every time Gavin had touched her, he'd told her how
much he loved her. And Brad had said the same words before he'd bolted from her
life.

But she knew that Shaun was different, and even as she
decided that maybe she could open up her heart and trust him to love her, she
knew that she already had. And that she loved him, too. And she resolved that
she would finally tell him so. Tonight.

Her lips curved as she heard the slam of a car door.
Or maybe she'd tell him sooner.

She pulled back the curtains, expecting to see Shaun's
car in the driveway. Instead there was a glossy black BMW parked there, and
Warren Blake was striding up the walk toward the front door.

She fought back the disappointment as she went to open
the door. "Warren, hi."

He smiled, but there was something in his eyes that
made her uneasy. Or maybe she was just a little paranoid after everything that
had happened over the past several weeks. But that was behind her now, and
Gavin was behind bars.

"Hello, Arden. Can I come in for a minute?"

She hesitated only a fraction of a second, certain
that Shaun wouldn't approve of her entertaining the man in his home, but she
couldn't be rude to a professional acquaintance. She stepped away from the
door. "I just made a pot of coffee," she said. "Would you like
some?"

"No, thanks."

"Is this a social call?"

He shrugged. "I guess you could say that I
understand you had a little trouble at your office yesterday. Are you
okay?"

She touched a hand to the bruise on the side of her
face. The swelling had gone down considerably, but she knew it didn't look
pretty. "I'm fine, thanks."

"I wanted to let you know that we found the
witness who saw Granger outside your office the day the bomb was found."

"Oh." Her stepfather's arrest had put
everything else out of her mind. But Granger had still committed a crime, and
he should be held responsible for what he'd done even if the man who'd hired
him was already behind bars. "I guess you'll be bringing Granger back in
for questioning, then."

"No," Warren said shortly. "The witness
is dead."

"Oh."

"He was murdered."

Arden swallowed, closed her eyes. "Please tell me
it had nothing to do with what he saw." She couldn't bear to think that
someone had been killed for trying to help her. So many innocent people had
lost so much already.

"The police are working on the assumption that
your pen pal wanted to ensure there were no loose ends connected back to
him."

"But I don't believe—I can't imagine—Gavin
wouldn't kill someone in cold blood." He'd done a lot of horrible things,
but she couldn't believe he was capable of murder.

"I think anyone's capable of almost anything,
given the right set of circumstances," Warren said.

She shook her head. She still couldn't believe it.

"Take you, for example," he continued.
"No one who knows you would ever think you were suicidal."

Arden frowned. "What?"

"And yet you've been so distracted lately.
Depressed. It's not inconceivable that the events of the past few months would
have taken their toll, driven you to take your own life."

Arden backed away from him. "I'm not
suicidal."

"Of course you are. And you're going to write the
notice that proves it."

* * *

Shaun
hadn't finished his first cup of tea when Claire buzzed through to him. He
frowned. He'd canceled all of his appointments for the day, knowing he'd be too
busy thinking and worrying about Arden to concentrate on legal strategy. He
hadn't
wanted
to leave her alone, and he wouldn't have done so if she
hadn't insisted.

Still, he wasn't comfortable being away from her.
She'd been through so much lately. Maybe she didn't need him to take care of
her, but he needed to take care of her. He needed to be with her. He wanted to
be with her. And as soon as he spoke to Claire, he would gather up some work
and head home.

"Joel Logan's here," Claire told him.

"Send him in." Shaun didn't expect that the
investigator would have any information for him, but he'd thank him for his
time and pay him for the work he'd done.

Logan didn't waste any time. He tossed a folder onto
Shaun's desk. "You were right about Blake."

Shaun felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.
"Right—how?"

"I found a connection between him and Simon
Granger."

"What kind of connection?" Shaun demanded.

"Blake used to do some criminal defense work when
he was in California. Turns out he was counsel of record for Granger on his
last charge. Arson."

"Christ." Shaun grabbed his car keys and
pushed away from the desk. He had to get home to Arden. Now.

"There's more," Logan said.

"That's all I need to know right now," Shaun
said. It was more than enough to convince him that Arden was in danger.

* * *

"I
don't understand what's going on here," Arden said. But she knew enough to
know that her nightmare wasn't over.

"And I always thought you were such a bright
woman." He shook his head and handed her a folded sheet of paper.
"Maybe this will clarify a few things."

Her blood was roaring in her ears, her limbs were
weak, but somehow she managed to reach out and take it from him. She unfolded
it, the bold red letters screaming at her from the stark whiteness of the page.

"NOW."

"It was you."

He smiled proudly. "Yes, it was me."

She swallowed the bile that had risen into her throat,
struggled to remain calm, to think. "Why?"

"You really don't know?"

She shook her head, winced at the pain.

"Does the name Angela Blake ring a bell?"

"No."

"She was my wife."

"I thought—I mean, I'd heard you were
divorced."

"Widowed," he corrected her. "But
Angela had contracted a lawyer about a divorce, after attending a seminar you
gave in Philadelphia. She'd come back for a visit, for her mother's birthday,
and they went to a women's symposium."

"You think it's my fault that she left you?"

"It is," Blake said. "You filled her
head with all kinds of nonsense."

"I don't even remember talking to her,"
Arden said, almost desperately.

"You did. I found one of your business cards in
her purse. You not only talked to her, you turned her against me."

He was insane, she realized. Certifiable. But that was
little consolation if he intended to kill her—it was hard to reason with a
crazy person.

He pulled a legal pad and a pen out of his briefcase,
pushed them across the table to her. "Write."

"I'm not going to write a suicide note," she
said. "I'm not going to help you kill me."

He shrugged. "A note makes it easier, but it's
not necessary."

She picked up the pen.

If he was determined to kill her, she was determined
that he wouldn't get away with it. She tilted the pad of paper and began
writing with the backhand slant she'd used as a child. Anyone who knew her
would know it wasn't her usual handwriting.

The phone rang, and Arden instinctively started to
rise from her chair to answer it. Warren put a restraining hand on her
shoulder.

"Leave it," he instructed.

"It might be Shaun," she protested, half
hoping and half fearing that it was. Surely he'd be suspicious if she didn't
answer the phone.

"I can't risk you tipping him off," Warren
said mildly.

"But he'll wonder why I'm not answering."

"More likely he'll assume you're in the bath,
soaking away your troubles."

He was right, Arden realized dejectedly.

"Finish your note," Warren instructed.

She scribbled her name at the bottom, praying silently
but fervently. She didn't want to die. She'd finally reached a point in her
life when she was ready to move forward with the man she loved, and she didn't
want to die before she ever had a chance to tell Shaun how she felt.