UP IN FLAMES

Wondering who actually took the time to get personalized stationery made, he pulled out the note and unfolded it. It was definitely a match. The word was written in childish, blockish handwriting.

His eyes met hers. Part of him wanted to tell her that it could be coincidental.

But he was a logical man. Unless Vanessa wrote the note and threw the rock through her own windshield, someone had slipped into her apartment at some point and retrieved the stationery from her desk. That had to be taken seriously.

Vanessa fixed her glasses, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke. “Someone’s been in my apartment.”

His chest tightened as real fear snaked up his spine. “I think it’s time that I look at those notes.”

——–

So many different emotions swirled through Vanessa as she sat in her living room, watching Alaric pore over the notes in her kitchen. Anger. Frustration. Fear. They mingled together, causing her to go from furious to terrified in seconds and giving her one fierce headache. Someone had been in her apartment.

Her heart dropped at the thought. When? While she had left to go find Alaric or before then? How many days could’ve passed and she’d never known? Better yet, how had someone gotten into her apartment? She took off her glasses, placing them onto the bar. The clock on the stove said it was after midnight and her eyes felt full of grit.

“Any idea who it could be? An ex-boyfriend?”

A dry laugh escaped. “No.” She replied.

“You’ve never had an ex-boyfriend? I mean… Before you married Christopher?”

“I did have boyfriends, but not anyone who hates my guts.” The look of disbelief on his striking face irked her. “All my breakups have been amicable. Okay?”

“Husbands?”

“What? No. I’ve only been married once… To Christopher,” she said.

“Girlfriends?”

She rolled her eyes. A brief grin appeared, and she was surprised to see it. Something about it told her that a lot of people probably lived their whole lives without seeing that grin.

“What about clients? I mean.. Anyone you worked with in the past.”

Rubbing her temples, she shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever hurt anyone to the extent that they’d do this.”

Alaric snorted. Lifting her lashes, she felt a nasty retort forming on the tip of her tongue, mostly out of habit, but it died off before she could open her mouth. “I’m not a terrible person,” she said, her voice low. “I know that might be hard for you to believe.”

He blinked. “I didn’t say you were.” Something flickered across his face, and then he looked away, a muscle working along his jaw. “Obviously someone doesn’t feel the way you do. Look, the best thing you can do is write down a list of people you think have a reason to go this far.” He gathered up the notes, placing them in the file. “I can run some background checks once you get the list. Mind if I keep these?”

“So does this mean you don’t think I’m a suspect anymore?”

He stared at her. “I’m not going to answer that question.”

She needed a strong drink to deal with him, Vanessa thought. She lifted her gaze and found him watching her intently. So much so that she wondered if she had done something wrong. Holding eye contact with those clear eyes wasn’t easy. Alaric’s intensity could be intimidating, and he stared at her as if he could see right into her.

Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt her lips part on a soft inhale. She was easily reminded of how he’d felt pressed against her in the parking lot. A heaviness filled her breasts, an almost sweet aching.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

Wishing she didn’t feel this way around him, when her cell phone rang, she welcomed the distraction. Caller ID showed Unknown Number, but ignoring her usual policy of letting such calls go directly to voicemail, she answered.

“Hello?”

“I know what you did,” an unfamiliar voice rasped.

“Even better, I have real evidence that you killed your husband.”

“Who is this?” she demanded. “And I had nothing to do with my husband’s murder.”

She sucked in air, fury rising in her. “Are you the one who shot out my window? And trashed my car?”

The caller laughed. “No, but I know who did. I’m thinking I’ll take him out next. I need you alive, at least for now. If you’re dead, you can’t give me the information I need.”

“What information?” Gripping her phone, she could barely keep up. None of this made any sense.

“Unless you tell me where Christopher stashed my money, I’m going to the police.”

“Money?” A headache had begun to pulse behind her temples. “I don’t have any money. And if you know who’s trying to kill me, you need to tell the police.”

“Liar.” His flat tone told her that he truly believed it. “You have forty-eight hours. I’ll call again. If you don’t locate my money, you’ll be arrested for murder.

Oh, and by the way…cute boyfriend you have there. The guy’s pretty hot for a detective, don’t you think?”

Then, while she was still trying to process that, he ended the call.

“What was that?” Alaric asked.

She didn’t reply. She gasped out loud, swiveling around the room, as if she thought she’d suddenly spy a camera.

Of course she saw nothing like that. Alaric stood up. He watched her as she looked around frantically, frowning.

“Who was that on the phone?” he asked, worriedly as he grabbed her arm. “What’s going on?”

Keeping her voice low, she told him everything the caller had said. “He’s watching us. He knows that I’m not alone. He knows you’re here.” Her voice rose. “I’m so scared, Alaric.”

“I understand.” He pulled her close. “Listen to me. I will search the house. If there’s a camera, I’ll find it.” He sounded 100 percent certain.

She needed to hear that confidence. Taking a deep breath, she nodded, and watched as he went into action. He searched the room like he’d done it before, like a professional. She watched as he methodically went through everything, from the tables, to chairs, walls and cabinets.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s got to be here somewhere.”