Till Justice Is Served (4 page)

Jeff nodded in agreement. "I'll stop by the sheriff's office for coffee in the morning. If anybody opens up to me, I'll give you both a call."

"The message left at the crime scene might give us a hint," Erin said, looking straight at Rafe. "Can you find out what it said?"

Jeff leaned forward. "Rafe can't just step in."

"Because the cops haven't asked the FBI for help?" she asked.

"Right. Even if they invited us to help, I might not be assigned to the case. I'm on leave."

Erin's hand covered her mouth as pink raced up her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I haven't offered my condolences. Your dad talked about you and Luke all the time."

"You saw him often?" Rafe's curiosity climbed at her words. Did he detect a judgmental tone in her words?

"If we couldn't get enough to round out the table, Erin played poker with us. Most of the time, she held her own around us old folks." Jeff's pride lit up his face.

Rafe stood, went to the window, and looked out. He wasn't comfortable thinking about his dad boring Erin with information about his sons. "A patrol car just pulled up."

Erin walked to the front door. "I'm just glad I didn't find the envelope. They'd just think I planted it."

Rafe intercepted her before she let in the cops. "I'm staying for a few weeks. There's no law against me unofficially poking around. I can also call my partner and get him to help."

"Thank you."

She opened the door and ushered two cops inside. Rafe introduced himself as a friend of the family before Erin had a chance to add the fact he was a federal agent. They jotted down names.

"Where is Detective Beckett?" Erin asked the first police officer.

"On another call. He asked that we bag and deliver the note to the lab. We're to take names and a brief statement. He may contact you later."

The older of the two cops, Sergeant Kelly, peered down at the note. He snapped on his gloves and dropped it and the envelope into a paper bag. After he'd sealed and initialed it, he walked back to Rafe, Jeff, and Erin.

"Ms. Brady, other than yours, whose fingerprints will the lab find on the note?"

"My neighbor handled the envelope, but you'll find mine on both."

"I moved it to the counter, but used baggies in lieu of gloves," Rafe said, knowing the town was too small to keep his identity a secret. He'd been stupid to think he could. "I'm here as a family friend, but I'm also a federal agent."

"I thought I recognized you. You're Rafe Sirilli."

Rafe nodded. "That's correct."

"I hated to hear about your dad." Sergeant Kelly shook Rafe's hand. "He was a good man."

"Yes, he was."

The conversation drifted to football for a few minutes, but Rafe wasn't fooled. Kelly was giving everybody a chance to relax.

"Which neighbor brought the envelope in to you?" Kelly asked.

"That's his house next door. The one with the big oak tree and the tire swing," Erin said. "No kids. Just a swing."

Kelly nodded. "We'll walk over and speak with him. People do crazy things after a murder. There's no telling who left the note. Could have been a reporter baiting you. You know, a 'film at six' kind of news story."

Erin walked the two police officers to the door then pointed out Linc's house. "Tell me, did Detective Beckett really have another appointment or does he think I wrote the note myself?"

"I really don't know what he thinks, ma'am."

Erin sighed. "I'm sorry. Of course, he has other cases." She closed the door and returned to the couch. "Getting bitchy with the cops wasn't a good move."

"They understand." Jeff checked the time. "It might be a good idea if you packed a few things and stayed with me and Lotty until this is over."

She'd started shaking her head before he'd finished the sentence. "I'm not allowing a stupid note and a handful of reporters to send me into hiding." Erin's face softened as she smiled at Jeff. "No way would I add the burden of a houseguest to Lotty."

"You're not a guest," Jeff said.

"You know what I mean. She'd overextend herself. Do me a favor? Hug her and tell her I love her."

"How about staying with Carla?" Jeff glanced at Rafe. "She and Erin are good friends."

"I'm staying here. I'll need a ride to the police parking lot. I rode home with Harold." Her eyes closed for a moment. "But there's no hurry. I have nowhere to go tomorrow."

Rafe knew exactly what she was saying. He understood how a person's work blurred with their personality. Her job as a counselor was her calling. It was as much a part of her as the air she breathed, and she was on the verge of losing everything.

He picked up her cell and programmed in his number, giving himself a special code for speed dial. After all, hadn't she referred to him earlier as the devil?

Then he turned to Jeff. "I'll come by tomorrow and drive Erin to get her car. Give us a chance to talk."

She stood and jammed her fists on her hips. "Don't I have a say in this?"

"Not this time." He paused at the door, battling back a smile. "If you need anything, dial 666. My cell's always on."

C
HAPTER 4

Erin closed the door behind Jeff and Rafe. The number of vans in front of her house had thinned out, and she hoped her fifteen minutes of fame had ended. She'd struggled against a poor-poor-pitiful-me frame of mind all day. Finally alone, she allowed the feeling of desperation to overwhelm her. Her knees buckled. She slid down the wall to the floor, brought her knees up, and dropped her forehead forward.

The silence embraced her, almost as if it protected her from outside accusations. She remained huddled in that position on the floor until darkness engulfed the room. Pushing to her feet, she shuffled down the hall, toed off her shoes, lay down on her bed, and then curled into a ball.

Sleep called to her, and she succumbed willingly. Soon, the shrewish voice of Nick Sirilli drifted through the fog. "Rafe knows all about you. Stay away from him. He's planning on telling everybody the truth about you." Tears had streaked the face of the frightened teenager.

Erin woke with a start.

A glance at her clock proved she'd slept only an hour. The last thing she needed was nightmares about her past. Where had that memory come from? Hadn't she put all that behind her? She'd buried that period of her life so deep she'd thought it could never resurface. She gave her pillow a couple of punches and then lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

She knew exactly why she'd dreamed of being a kid. Rafe Sirilli standing in her living room as if he belonged there had screwed with her mind. His black T-shirt and black jeans were a testament to his amazing body. Even with long hair and a beard, Rafe was heart-achingly handsome with his smoldering dark gray eyes.

He'd also reminded her of a time in her life best forgotten. Past humiliation crowded her thoughts. A year ahead of her, he'd left for college before the biggest part of her scandal broke. After the trial, things had died down. The townsfolk had forgotten and moved on. Not Erin. Her memory was vividly intact.

Seeing Rafe had brought back all that old pain. Everybody in town had thought her no more than trash back then. Why was he willing to help her now? Maybe his time with the government had forced him to see that not everything is as it seems.

Her thick comforter was within reach, and she pulled it over her shoulders. This time, she'd dream about warm waters, white sand, and friendly people.

****

The press and onlookers who'd gathered at the front of Erin's house had provided the perfect cover. Hiding in plain sight, he'd been able to check on her a couple of times today. One of the two remaining news vans appeared to be packing up. His ability to blend in was becoming difficult. As much as he hated to leave his vantage point, he had to go.

Erin had been busy all day. Those men in her apartment had troubled him briefly, but he brushed those silly worries aside. Jeff and Harold were pillars of the community. They'd been there to protect her, but the stranger and neighbor had no business sniffing around her.

He'd relaxed a little when all four of the men left. Why had he let it bother him? Erin wouldn't be unfaithful. Hadn't she demonstrated her affection for him repeatedly? What had she called him? Casanova. "Casanova was a great lover," he said aloud, loving the way the name rolled off his tongue.

The lights in Erin's house went off, leaving Casanova to believe she'd gone to straight to bed when the men had finally gone. He pulled his ball cap low and walked over to a small group of reporters. They paid him no attention, proving to him that hiding in plain sight still worked well.

The word witness stopped him cold. Had someone spotted him crawling out of Penny's window? Blood rushed through his veins, pounding in his ears like huge waves hitting the shore.

"The cops have the counselor cold." A reporter opened the driver's side door of a van.

"How you figure?" asked a tall cameraman.

"Some girl came forward and said she'd overheard the counselor threaten the dead girl." The reporter slammed the van door and started the engine.

"No shit?" Camera Guy said.

"You're out of the loop, man. Small time." The driver smirked. "Everybody has already headed to the witness's house. You're late to the party."

"Well, you follow the crowd. I'm staying right here. One picture of Ms. Brady will net me some quick cash."

The news hadn't mentioned the message he'd written on Penny's wall with the public. Had they done so, maybe her friends might have taken his warning seriously. Damn them and her. Even dead, she was still manipulating people. Which one of her minions had told this lie?

Casanova had no choice but to follow the van to find out which teenager had lied. He'd thought one death would be enough. That his message would get out, prompting the others in Penny's crowd to stop making false allegations against Erin.

He hated to be wrong. Yet, an odd rush of exhilaration rushed through him. He'd kill anyone who came between him and the woman he loved.

There was so much to do before he could take her home. The contractor he'd hired was almost finished with the interior renovations. Soon, the workers would install new thick carpeting. His next purchase would be bedroom furniture. Erin's style was simple and classic, so he'd select colors and pieces sure to please her. Then he'd have the perfect house for the perfect woman.

Erin would be grateful when she learned everything he'd done for her.

****

Erin woke, swung her feet to the floor, and raked her tangled hair out of her eyes. Sweat had soaked through her clothes, and her empty stomach growled in protest. When had she last eaten?

No way could she go back to sleep, even though it was just four thirty. She showered, washed her hair, and slipped on jeans and a T-shirt. Now what? Taking her morning run was out. Sure as she did, some reporter would catch her away from the house. Sitting around doing nothing was going to drive her crazy.

After she picked up her car, her most important errand today was to visit Lotty. She and Jeff were very close, and by now, he'd told her everything. No doubt, she'd watched the news. She was a worrier and would fret until Erin showed up to talk. Her heart warmed just thinking about the love and affection Lotty and Jeff had given her. They'd taken in a street kid and helped her overcome her past. Because of them, Erin had gone on to college and gotten her master's degree. She literally owed them her life.

Erin flipped off the bathroom light. Today was basketball practice for the girls who played on her YMCA team. She hated the thought of letting them down. Surely, somebody would step up and coach the team in her absence.

She rounded the corner into the living room. Through the sliding glass doors, a series of rapidly flashing bright lights blinded her. White dots blurred her vision. She stumbled and landed hard on the floor.

Where had she left her phone? Rafe had handed it back to her. The coffee table. It was close by. She crawled on her belly, feeling her way along the edge of the table until the cool plastic of her cell cover was under her hand.

She entered the number nine but changed her mind. Instead, she cleared the dial pad and punched in 666.

He answered on the second ring. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's in my backyard."

"Lock yourself in the bathroom and don't come out. And call 911. I'm on my way."

She glanced at the screen.
Call Ended
. He'd disconnected. Knowing he would be there soon sent waves of relief over her. Erin's vision slowly cleared, so she pushed herself to a sitting position and considered a run down the hall to the bathroom. There had been no more flashes, and no one tried to break in, so she decided against calling 911. She stayed right where she was until Rafe arrived. 

Fear faded and flashed to anger. The intruder had to be a media type, someone trying for a picture to sell. Images of her half-dressed, looking half-asleep, plastered on every local media Web site sent her blood boiling. For the first time, she regretted not following Jeff's suggestion that she should be certified to carry a gun. Too late now. Texas probably wouldn't give her a license now until she was cleared of Penny's murder.

She stood, ran down the hall, and jerked an old robe off its hanger. Then she walked to the panel of switches on the kitchen wall and flipped on every outside light. Let the bastard come out into the open. She fixed the coffeepot, and while it brewed, she got a rubber band and pulled her still-damp hair into a low ponytail.

The knock on the front door was expected. Nevertheless, she steadied her nerves and checked the peephole before releasing the lock and letting Rafe inside.

"Are you okay?" His voice had a sharp edge. Strong fingers slid up the arms of her robe, stroking and inspecting her for bruises. His eyes scanned her from head to toe and back up. Heat rolled off him. His hard gaze spoke of a man who feared nothing. She wished she were that brave.

"Somebody was in my backyard. A series of flashes blinded me for a minute. I'm guessing they came from a camera."