Finding Her Son(26)

The chimes of the grandfather clock shattered the moment.

He rested his forehead against hers. “It’s too fast, isn’t it, Emily?”

She bit her lip and nodded. He glanced at his phone. “I need to make a call. Drink your tea. And someday soon…maybe it won’t be too fast.”

He caressed her cheek and left the room, the phone at his ear. “This had better be good.”

Emily sucked in a deep breath. Her nerve endings tingled. She paced the floor and noticed the message indicator on the phone she’d put in the charger. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed. She dialed her voice mail.

“Mrs. Wentworth.”

Perry’s voice sounded through the speakerphone.

She staggered at the sound of the dead man’s words.

“You didn’t show up, and your cell went straight to voice mail. Call me as soon as you get the message. This thing is bigger than I thought, ma’am. Lots of money. Lots of influence. I confirmed the Denver PD is involved, but I don’t know the cop’s name yet.”

A harsh curse sounded from across the room. Mitch had come back. A frown creased his face, and the muscle in his jaw throbbed.

Perry’s voice continued. “Ghost shouldn’t have escaped. Someone set it up.” A bit of rustling shifted through the phone. “If something happens to me…you’ll know what I know. I don’t want to say more on the phone.” Perry paused. “Be careful, Mrs. Wentworth. Don’t trust anyone. Call me.”

Emily sagged against the counter.

Mitch strode across the room to her. “Timing hasn’t been on our side, has it?” He kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger there. “Remember where we were.”

He lifted the cup and pushed it into her hands. “Now, take a sip and let’s go through your notes so we can find Perry’s evidence.”

Emily clasped the tea and walked down the short hallway toward the dining room, Mitch at her heels. She slid open the door and the teacup fell from her fingertips, shattering on the hardwood floor. “No!”

The walls were barren. The boxes gone. Every piece of evidence, every notebook, every pushpin, everything she’d gathered over the past nine months, vanished.

Stolen.

Mitch dragged her toward the door. “We’re getting out of here. Now!”





Chapter Six


Emily dug her heels into the floor and yanked out of Mitch’s hold. “Wait a minute. We can’t just leave—”

“Someone tried to blow your car up today,” he snapped. “We’re leaving until the bomb squad clears this place.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait.” She scooped up the teddy bear and two picture frames and threw them in a bag. “I’m not going without these,” she said, her eyes fierce.

Mitch clutched Emily’s hand and yanked her across the kitchen. No way was he retracing steps through the house. They’d have to make do without their coats.

She snagged her cell phone and charger. “But what about—”

“No time, Emily. We’re not taking any more chances.”

He dragged her to the back exit. After a quick inspection of the hinges and frame for a trip wire, he flung open the oak door. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless. They’d meandered around the house for a half hour. Making tea, for God’s sake. A device set to the gas stove and it would have been all over. They’d both be dead, and no one would know someone had cleaned out all the evidence from her dining room.

She stumbled outside after him, their feet crunching on the leftover snow. He scanned the perimeter of the yard, searching for footprints or anything out of place.

No disturbances. The perp had probably come in through the front.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said. “I should’ve scoped out the house before you entered. I let you down. It won’t happen again.”

“The house was locked,” she protested. “How did they—”

“When’s the last time you used the key under the pot?”

She flushed.

“That’s what I figured. You’re a smart woman, Emily. You handled yourself well downtown, but you can’t lower your guard, even on your home turf. Not ever. Now, we have to get out of here.”

He picked his way around the side of the house. His body tensed with awareness, he tugged her near. “Stay close to me.”

Emily’s hand rested lightly against his back. He needed to feel her presence, to know she was safe. He’d rely on his SWAT instincts. Those he could trust. Clearly his detective intuition didn’t make the grade. When he reached the corner, Mitch stilled, listening for any sign, searching for any movement.

She trembled against him. He gave her a comforting squeeze. “Let me check the SUV, and then we’re out of here.”

She nodded, and he did a quick sweep underneath the vehicle. Looked clean, but he gave it a second pass anyway. He couldn’t be too careful. He motioned her toward the vehicle and opened the door. She jumped in, and he slid behind the steering wheel.

Clutching the bag with the photos to her as if they were a lifeline to her memories, she fastened her safety belt.

Within a minute, they were on the road, Mitch on high alert and determined that no one would catch him unaware again.