Send Me a Hero Page 7

  Nathan gritted his teeth. “I have to check it out.” He narrowed his eyes at Ford. “Then I’ll decide.”

  “You’re crazy yourself,” Ford said in a disgusted voice. “Wait till the lieutenant hears about this.”

  Nathan slammed his hand on the table. “I’ll handle Stevens. Why don’t you get to work?”

  “You expect me to help you?”

  “You’re my partner, aren’t you?”

  Ford’s fat cheeks ballooned out in anger. “Not by choice.”

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t my choice, either,” Nathan snapped. A buzz of voices sounded in the hallway. The other detectives and cops strolled in. Nathan and Ford glared at each other.

  “I’ll check the background on the Bailey case,” Ford finally said, heading to his own desk.

  “Fine. By dividing up, we can get the legwork done on both cases. Then we’ll meet up.” Nathan turned his gaze back to the screen, his eyes widening as the data kicked in. Cox had been fingerprinted and he had a record, a misdemeanor for vandalizing as a teen, but nonetheless a record.

  Nathan studied the data. Hmm. Interesting.

  Ron Cox was five foot eleven, 170 pounds.

  Scrawny.

  First wife—deceased at age twenty-five. Cox had been questioned about the murder, but released, citing lack of evidence. No mention of cause of death. Worth checking into, Nathan noted to himself. No children. Lawyer with Hepplewhite and Sutton, handles investments, been with the firm for four years, being considered for partner. Annual income $110,000.

  Then he realized Veronica’s salary probably tripled his own, also. Not that it mattered, but it was a real ego buster. Shaking away the thought, he turned back to the information and scanned for details on the man’s arrest. Zilch. He wondered if it could have been a substantially more serious charge and he’d pleaded down to the misdemeanor.

  He would check the Internet for any news articles about Cox’s arrest and investments. A few minutes later he hit the jackpot. There wasn’t just one, but several articles about Ron Cox. He was one of Florida’s leading attorneys specializing in land investments, and Florida was booming with investors. A whole series of stories had been written about tourism and the economy. The price of land had skyrocketed for condos and town homes near the coast. As he skimmed the articles, he understood how Cox earned such a hefty salary. His specific knowledge was valued by proprietors of several major companies who were expanding and building entire vacation resorts catering to the wealthy.

  Then one article drew his eye. A small subsidiary of one of the companies had accused Cox of embezzling funds and taking money from elderly people. The case had gotten local media attention, but suddenly the news had ceased. He skimmed the next few editions of the paper and discovered a small section explaining that the company had reached a settlement and the charges had been dropped. Hadn’t Veronica mentioned helping some older groups?

  Nathan ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair, placing his booted feet on his desk while he considered the possibilities. Did Veronica know about Cox’s past?

  Surely she knew. The stories had appeared in the paper only six months ago—she was still living in Florida at the time.

  Perhaps Veronica had discovered something about Cox’s business by mistake. Cox might be worried about her coming forth with the information. If his career was at stake, he had a viable motive—men had killed before for money. It was a theory worth investigating.

  He checked his watch, then stretched and ignored the hum of the other computers and officers in the room as he strode toward the door. The flower shop would be open by now. He planned to go by and see if he could learn who’d sent Veronica the crushed daisies before he picked up her client list. Maybe the florist would solve the little mystery for him and he could wrap up this case. Then he could forget Veronica Miller.

  VERONICA TRIED to concentrate on her agenda for the day as she took her morning run, but images of Nathan Dawson kept popping into her head. At least his image was more pleasing than the dead flowers she’d received and much less upsetting than the music box. Well, upsetting in a different way, she conceded.

  After lying awake half the night trying to figure out the odd circumstances surrounding her arrival in Georgia, she’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep and dreamed that she was being chased by a madman, the same one who’d killed her parents, and she’d gone running off a cliff. She’d been falling, falling, falling into empty air with nothing but jagged rocks below to break her fall—her fall to death.

  Picking up her running pace, she pumped her legs and turned the corner near her apartment complex, then slowed as she noticed a man wearing a dark coat walk past her car. What was he doing?

  She jogged the trail that went around the parking lot and watched the man, but the hood of an all-weather coat hid his face.

  Then the man was gone. Disappeared right before her eyes.

  She followed the path bordering the building and searched to see if he’d run around the back, but she saw nothing except a couple of teenagers embracing on the park bench. Circling back, she scanned the parking lot to make sure he wasn’t hiding behind a bush, but again she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Was she just being paranoid?

  Building up speed, she jogged around the building again, once more searching for any signs of the man. A young mother pushing a stroller passed her and waved.

  She veered toward her apartment, certain she was just imagining things, when she saw a hooded figure dash from her apartment door. Freezing momentarily, she forgot to breathe. Then the figure disappeared and anger replaced her fear. She charged up the steps, expecting to find her door ajar and her things scattered, but her door was locked and a newspaper lay on the stoop. She picked it up and wondered if the man was the new delivery guy. Reaching inside her pocket and retrieving the mace she carried when she jogged, she held it in one hand and rolled the paper up with the other hand so she could use it as a weapon if she needed. Then she crept inside her apartment. But once again, nothing was amiss.

  Hands trembling, she poured herself a glass of water then went to stand on her deck. Was she going crazy? She scanned the parking lot and play area and saw nothing but the mother and the small children. A black Land Cruiser left the parking lot, and old man Perkins meandered out for his morning paper.

  Good grief. Had she been frightened over a paperboy?

  She chastised herself a thousand times while she showered and dressed for work. “Now where’s that red blazer?” she mumbled searching through her closet.

  A few minutes later she gave up the search and pulled on a black jacket, then left for work. Maybe today Detective Dawson would show up with some answers. Once she sorted out her past, her life could get back to normal.

  NATHAN FELT LIKE A THORN in a rose garden as he stepped inside the pale pink walls of the florist’s shop and noticed the delicate arrangements of fragile flowers in glass showcases. A tinkling bell chimed above and a small gray-haired woman wearing an apron over stretch knit pants greeted him with a kind smile.

  “What can I do for you, young man?” She wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes twinkling. “Looking for something for that special someone?”

  Nathan stilled, realizing her assumption. He hadn’t been called young in a long time; all the more reason he should avoid getting personally involved with Veronica. “No, ma’am. I need some information.”

  “Okay. Are you looking for something indoor or outdoor?”

  Nathan shook his head and produced his badge. The woman swallowed a small gasp as her eyes widened. “I’d like to find out who sent some flowers to a woman last night.”

  “Why? Was something wrong with the arrangement?”

  Nathan’s jaw tightened as he fought frustration. “I need to know who sent them, ma’am. It’s police business.”

  The woman squared her shoulders and ambled toward a small round table where she produced a ledger.

  “Tell me who they were sent
to.”

  “Veronica Miller. Apartment J-5, Bainbridge Apartments. They arrived last night about ten.”

  The woman propped a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles on her nose, then scanned the ledger. “Daisies?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman peered over her glasses. “I thought that was odd.”

  Nathan cleared his throat. Now they were getting somewhere. “What was odd, ma’am?”

  “Well, the daisies were already wilting. I was about to throw them out but the customer insisted on them. Paid for them in cash.”

  “And who was the customer?” Nathan asked impatiently.

  The woman tapped her forehead in thought. “She was wearing a red jacket with a pin on it.” She tapped the ledger. “I remember the pin sparkled in the sunlight—some kind of bird. A swan, peacock, pelican maybe.” Then she described the customer and Nathan strode from the store.

  He had to see Veronica.

  VERONICA RUSHED into her front office, poured herself some tea and waved to Louise who was busy on the phone verifying appointments for later in the week. Sailing past the coatrack, she noticed her red jacket.

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” she muttered as she grabbed it and carried it to her office. She didn’t remember leaving it at work. In fact, she usually kept her jacket over her chair so she wouldn’t forget it.

  Deciding it wasn’t important, she opened her briefcase and spread the files she’d meant to study the night before on her desk. Pouring over endless paperwork would no doubt take her mind off the handsome detective and his kiss—and the haunting memories of her early-morning nightmare. She wasn’t sure which disturbed her more.

  An hour later she’d compiled the client list for Nathan and set it aside. She was engrossed in one of her client’s financial plans when the phone rang.

  “Veronica Miller speaking.”

  “Veronica, it’s Eli. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Veronica’s fingers tightened around the handset as the memories of the crushed flowers blurred her vision. “Of course I’m all right, why wouldn’t I be?”

  Eli hesitated. “Well, you seemed tense at the party. You’re my goddaughter, and now that you’re in town, I intend to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  Veronica fiddled with her ballpoint pen and smiled. “I’m fine, Eli. You’re really sweet to ask.” She’d fretted about the flowers all night and decided there had to be a logical explanation. Perhaps Eli had ordered them and the florist had made a mistake. “Eli, you didn’t send me flowers last night, did you?”

  “Why, no.” He chuckled. “But I wish I’d thought of it. You must have a secret admirer.”

  “Some admirer,” Veronica mumbled as the line broke up with static.

  “What? You’ll have to speak up, dear. I’m on the cell phone.”

  “Nothing.” Veronica thought quickly. “It was probably a business acquaintance, and they forgot to put in the card.”

  “Probably so. Listen, I’d like to have lunch later in the week. How about Friday?”

  “Sure.” Veronica penciled in Friday and said goodbye. She turned back to her file but a familiar scent wafted into the room and she felt someone’s presence. When she glanced up, Nathan was standing in the doorway. He’d been devastatingly handsome in the tux, but even in his faded jeans and the blue oxford shirt, he looked sexy as sin.

  “Hi.” She fumbled with her pen and dropped it on the floor. “I guess you came by for that client list.”

  Nathan nodded and moved in the doorway. Veronica couldn’t read his expression, but the smile she’d seen last night when he’d asked her to trust him was absent from his eyes.

  “Do you have it ready?”

  Veronica handed the list to him. “There are several sheets. I made notations by the ones who are no longer with me. The red asterisks indicate clients who weren’t happy with their settlements, but I still don’t think any of them are dangerous.”

  Nathan scanned the paper. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.”

  An uneasy feeling swept over Veronica at Nathan’s cold, formal tone. Where was the man who’d been so sensitive last night? The man who’d kissed her and awakened needs she hadn’t even realized she’d had.

  Nathan paused by the chair where she’d draped her red jacket. An odd expression drew his eyebrows together, and when he looked at her, then back at the coat, a chill slithered up her spine.

  “Whose jacket is this?” he asked.

  Veronica swallowed, reminding herself she had no reason to be afraid of Nathan Dawson. He was here to help her. “It’s mine.”

  Nathan’s unreadable expression turned into a puzzled frown. His long fingers stroked the colorful pelican pin on the lapel. “That pin belonged to my grandmother,” she said. “There are only a few like it in the world.”

  Nathan’s jaw hardened and Veronica tensed, her shoulders rigid. “What’s wrong, Detective?”

  When he spoke, his voice sounded harsh. “I went by the florist on the way over here. He said the person who ordered those flowers was a woman.”

  Veronica’s pulse jumped. “You know who sent them?”

  “The florist said the woman had long dark hair, dark eyes.” He touched the pin again and stared into her eyes. Veronica could have sworn he was looking straight into her soul.

  “In fact, she said the woman was wearing a red jacket with a pin on the lapel…sounded just like this one.”

  Chapter Five

  Nathan steeled himself against Veronica’s reaction. Her soft gasp and wide-eyed stare was almost convincing, and when she sagged into the chair with a dazed expression on her face, he fought the urge to comfort her. Instead he cursed himself for allowing her to get to him the day before, and he let his anger churn. He wouldn’t be a sucker for anyone—not even a dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty like Veronica.

  Had she ordered the flowers for herself, then pretended to be upset? Could Ford be right? Could she be mentally disturbed? With her history, it was entirely possible.

  His former partner had let his personal feelings interfere with an investigation and it had cost him his life. And Nathan had almost died, too. He couldn’t afford to take any chances.

  “You think I sent them to myself?” Veronica finally asked in a dull voice.

  He chewed his bottom lip and said nothing. The disappointment in her eyes almost softened his resolve, but he knew now he had to solve this case. Even if it meant discovering she was a pathological liar.

  “That’s what you think, isn’t it?” The color returned to her face in a splash of angry crimson. “You’re just like everybody else. Once you heard about my past, you decided I was crazy.”

  “I don’t know what I think,” Nathan finally said. “But I want to find out the truth.”

  “I’m sure hundreds of women own red jackets. As far as the pin, I don’t know.” Veronica’s dark eyes blazed with fury. “Yesterday you asked me to trust you, and today you accuse me of sending myself a box of dead flowers. You don’t know the truth when it’s looking straight at you.”

  Nathan closed the distance between them and glared at her. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just doing my job.”

  Veronica’s fingers curled around the mahogany desktop. “Fine. That’s what I want you to do—your job. Find out who’s doing these things to me.”

  Nathan leaned forward and met her angry gaze. Her sultry peach scent enveloped him. For a moment he considered reaching out and stroking her, trying to calm her. But that would only draw him in more, and if she was lying, he’d become a bigger pawn in her psychotic game. Instead, he clutched the papers she’d given him and forced his voice to be level. “I intend to find out who’s behind all these things, Ms. Miller.”

  “Good, because I want them to stop. I have work to do.”

  “So do I.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine.”

  Several tense seconds stretched between them. Finally, Nathan lowered his voice. “I checked int
o your boyfriend.”

  “My ex-boyfriend.”

  Nathan nodded. “Did you know he had a record?”

  Veronica’s head snapped up. “What for?”

  “A misdemeanor for breaking and entering.”

  He watched Veronica strain to control her reaction. “Anything else?”

  “He was questioned about his first wife’s death.”

  Shock rode across Veronica’s face.

  “You didn’t know about that, did you?” When Veronica didn’t answer, he continued. “Did you know about the charges for embezzlement?”

  “Those were dropped,” Veronica said tightly. “Ron was cleared.”

  Nathan studied her. Was she defending the man because she still cared for him? Or could she be hiding something else?

  “Besides, that happened in Florida. I don’t see how that can possibly be related to what’s going on here.”

  Nathan fisted his hands by his sides. “Did you and Ron ever discuss business?”

  Veronica’s tone was sarcastic. “Not confidential matters if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “Bear with me for a minute, Veronica.” Nathan reined in his temper. “If Ron was involved in something illegal, and you inadvertently got privy to inside information, Cox would have a motive to come after you.”

  Veronica mulled over the possibility, her tone softening. “I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t remember anything. The only thing Ron told me about were a few investments.”

  “Land investments?”

  “Yes, but I don’t remember the details.” Veronica shuffled the papers on her desk and shrugged. “Just bits and pieces here and there. Nothing you couldn’t find out on your own if you were interested.”

  “Give it some thought. A name, place, anything could be important.”

  Veronica nodded. “Anything else?”

  Nathan gritted his teeth. Yes, he wanted to kiss her rosy lips and taste the fire in her body. But that was impossible. He didn’t even know if she was telling him the truth.