“I won’t be afraid. I have a nice little .22 tucked in my closet—not that I’m going to show it to the cops.”
His brows shot up. “Did you check to see if it’s still there? In fact, you’d better give this place the once-over again to see if anything’s been taken. The police are going to ask you, and it’ll seem off if you haven’t bothered to check.”
“I will. Go.”
He grabbed the jacket she’d shrugged off earlier and headed back to her car. The trunk lights illuminated her laptop case and a canvas bag, so he grabbed both. When he got back to her apartment, she met him at the door.
“I called the police and they’re sending two patrol officers over to take a report.”
“Gun still there?”
“The gun and everything else—not that I have anything of value in here—but we both know these so-called thieves were not here to snatch some jewelry and a camera.”
“I’ll be watching from the twenty-four-hour fast-food place down the block. As soon as they leave, I’ll be back.” He dumped her keys into her outstretched palm.
As he turned, she grabbed a handful of his jacket. “Where was I between the time I left the crime scene and the time I walked into my apartment and realized someone had been in here?”
“Stay as close to the truth as possible. You stopped for a drink to settle your nerves, but you were nowhere near Cambridge. We don’t want them putting you near the shot that was fired and start asking why you ran from the officer there.”
“Glad to see I’m not the only one who lies to the police.”
Slinging Sophia’s laptop case over his shoulder, he made his way to the sidewalk in front of her building. He looked both ways. Did Fazal’s killers realize that Sophia had a companion now—one who could take down a man with a gun? They might just have him pegged as a random boyfriend who knew a few moves.
He strode to the next apartment building and ducked behind a wall, away from the glow of the streetlamps. He transferred his weapon from his waistband to the pocket of his jacket and waited.
About fifteen minutes later, a patrol car rolled down the street and stopped in front of Sophia’s apartment. Austin waited until the two officers disappeared into the building, and then he loped down the sidewalk toward the orange neon sign boasting all-night burgers.
Pushing through the glass doors, he did a quick survey of the room, his gaze sweeping past the old homeless guy in the corner warming his hands on a Styrofoam cup of coffee and a hipster couple sucking down a couple of milk shakes. He narrowed his eyes at a single man sitting at a table against the wall, clicking away on his laptop.
Must be here for the free Wi-Fi.
Austin approached the counter and nodded to the young woman welcoming him with a big smile and a jaunty hat. He had to give her credit for keeping up the enthusiasm at this time of night.
“Can I get a cup of coffee and an apple pie?”
“Is that for here or to go?” She tapped the computerized register.
“For here, ma’am.”
He waited for his snack at the counter, and then took a seat across from the front door where he could keep an eye on it and the man on the laptop.
He pulled Sophia’s computer from its case and centered it on the table next to his coffee and prefab pie. As the laptop powered up, he drummed his thumbs on the edge of it and held his breath. He’d forgotten to ask her about a password.
The monitor blinked to life and an array of folders appeared on a backdrop of wildflowers. He recognized the scene as a standard selection from the computer’s templates—not that he ever expected Sophia Grant to have a personal photo as her computer’s desktop background. Did she even own any personal photos?
He spotted the Work folder and double-clicked on it. The folder contained more folders, some with last names as titles and some with dates.
Only Sophia could tell him if these folders had anything unusual in them. Would Dr. Fazal have put any sensitive information on Sophia’s computer if that data could endanger her life? Maybe he’d done so inadvertently.
The folders with the last names were obviously patient files. What had Sophia said about a mysterious patient? Fazal had given her the person’s file but hadn’t entered the information in their patient database, so maybe it was one of these.
She’d have to show him which one.
Yawning, he popped the lid off his coffee and took a sip. He broke off one corner of his pie to get the slightly burned coffee taste out of his mouth.
The couple with the shakes made a move and exited the restaurant with their heads together. The guy with the laptop followed the pair with his eyes before meeting Austin’s gaze for a split second and then returning to his work. Probably idle curiosity—unless he was a private eye spying on them.
Austin took another bite of his warm apple pie, licked the cinnamon goo from his lips and brushed the sugar from his fingers. He closed the Work folder and clicked on the email icon.
Sophia’s inbox opened, and a few new messages loaded—all from the same person, someone named Spark or Sparks. He hunched forward and then jerked back when he realized Spark was the online dating site she’d mentioned earlier.
His fingertips buzzed. He wanted to open one of those messages, but she’d realize he’d been snooping. He tracked down the list of messages and saw a few more from Spark—already opened. Didn’t he have a right to snoop a little? He was trying to protect this woman.
He double-clicked on one of the messages and immediately felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he read some guy’s advertisement for himself. He closed the message.
He had no right to delve into Sophia’s private business that had occurred before Fazal’s murder. He took another bite of his pie. But he’d ask her to go through her new messages and look for anything unusual. She had to be careful now.
He entered Fazal’s name in the search field of her inbox and went through those messages, but didn’t see anything that raised any red flags. It would be better to do this whole computer exercise with Sophia by his side.
He checked the time in the corner of the computer display and closed out Sophia’s mail. The cops had to be done by now. He stowed away the laptop and dumped his trash in the bin.
Calling out a thank-you to the bored fast-food workers, he pushed through the doors and into the cold Boston night air. He shoved his hands into his pockets, curling the fingers of his right hand around the handle of his gun.
When he saw that the patrol car had left, he picked up his pace until he was jogging, his boots scuffing on the sidewalk. He went up through the garage to take a quick look at Sophia’s car. Arriving at her apartment door, he tapped once with his knuckle. She had a peephole and he expected her to use it.
She must’ve been waiting for him because the door swung open immediately. “Well, that was a big waste of time.”
“Was it?” He swung the laptop case from his shoulder and put it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “What did they have to say?”
“A whole lotta nothing.”
She’d changed from her dark slacks and sweater into a pair of sweats and a Boston University sweatshirt. She’d pulled her dark hair into a ponytail and must’ve washed her face, as her dewy skin was devoid of makeup.
“Looks like they left a while ago. I’m sorry. I should’ve come back sooner.” If he hadn’t been prying into her Spark emails…
“They left about ten minutes ago and if they’d had their way, they would’ve left even sooner.”
“Did they believe you?” He pointed to the kitchen. “Can I have some water? That coffee was pretty bad.”
“I’ll get it.” In just a few steps, she reached the kitchen and poured him a glass of water from a dispenser in the fridge. As she handed him the glass, she said, “They didn’t say
they didn’t believe me…but they didn’t believe me.”
“Even with that messed-up bed.”
“I know, right? Imagine what they would’ve thought about that crease in the bedspread.”
“But they knew about Dr. Fazal’s murder?”
“That’s basically why they came out. They thought I was just being jumpy, but they were okay. Stayed longer than they wanted to or had to.” She dipped down and patted her laptop case. “How about you? Did you find anything?”
He felt a warm flush spread through his chest under her dark gaze. She knew.
“I think you’re going to have to do the investigating. I don’t know what those patient files are supposed to look like and if there’s anything weird about them.” He tapped his chin and as his scruff scratched his fingertips, now he wished he would’ve shaved after he got off the plane this morning. “I thought about the patient you’d mentioned before—the one Fazal didn’t enter in the regular database.”
“Yeah, his mysterious patient who didn’t need any follow-up exercises.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“Peter Patel.”
“Patel?”
“Indian, right?”
“A very common Indian name.”
“Like Smith or Jones would be in the US.”
“Exactly.”
“So, if an Indian man…”
“Or Pakistani.”
“If he wanted a common name, he might choose Patel.”
“The mystery patient could’ve been a friend of Dr. Fazal’s.”
“A friend he didn’t want to acknowledge for some reason.”
“A friend from the past, from Dr. Fazal’s homeland, someone who knew what he’d done.”
She twisted her ponytail around her hand and screwed up the side of her mouth. “Do you think Patel killed Dr. Fazal?”
“If Peter Patel, or whatever his name is, was Dr. Fazal’s enemy, I doubt Fazal would’ve pretended he was a patient and protected his identity. I’m thinking he was a friend, someone who needed help.”
“And that help may have gotten Dr. Fazal murdered—figures he’d think of someone else before himself.” She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.
Austin tipped his head toward the laptop. “Do you want to take a look now or are you ready for bed? It’s late.”
“I’ll look now.” She sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and crossed her legs beneath her. “What are you going to be doing tonight while I’m…sleeping?”
“Keeping watch.” He sank onto the couch across from Sophia, his knees banging against the coffee table.
“Outside all night?”
“If you don’t mind, I thought I’d camp out on your couch. I’m a light sleeper. If anyone tried to break in, I’d know it.”
She tapped her keyboard. “Do you think someone might try it?”
“Someone got in here before, and it doesn’t seem as if he found what he wanted. He’ll try again.”
“Are you going to take up permanent residence on my couch?” She peered at him over the laptop lid.
“Sophia, you’re going to have to get out of here. It’s not safe.”
“Are you kidding? Where will I go? How will I afford it?”
“I can take care of all of that. You’re a possible source of information for this case—and it’s a very important case. We’ll keep you safe.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” She held up one finger. “Got him. Peter Patel, knee injury.”
He hunched forward and she spun the computer to the side so he could see the monitor. An intake form filled the screen—name, address and other vitals.
“Can you print this out?”
“Done.” She clicked the screen and a printer across the room buzzed to life. “Are you going to pay Mr. Patel a visit?”
“Since he won’t be coming back to the office, yes.”
“Can I come?”
“No.” He tapped the screen. “Do you see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Other than the fact that this information wasn’t entered into our patient database? No.” She pushed up and crossed the room to grab the printouts. Then she slid them on the table in front of him. “Anything else you want me to check out?”
“Let’s start with Patel.”
She kneeled in front of the computer and her fingers flew across the keyboard. “My Spark date from tonight sent me an email. Said he understood if I changed my mind but asked if I wanted to try again.”
“No.” He grabbed Patel’s paperwork and squinted at it as if it were the most fascinating data ever.
Her dark eyes narrowed. “That’s rather intrusive considering you and I just met today.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to date random strangers—especially now.”
“I’d been chatting with this guy long before Dr. Fazal’s murder, and we already had one date.”
“Even if you weren’t a target for terrorists, online dating isn’t safe. You can’t meet guys the old-fashioned way?”
Doubling over, she banged her head on the coffee table and snorted…or coughed…or maybe that was a laugh. Then she tipped her head back. “Old-fashioned way? You mean bars? I don’t do bars, don’t drink. Besides, online dating has become one of the most common and popular ways to meet people. Where have you been hiding?”
“Umm, a variety of places around the world—wherever I’m deployed.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” She shut down her computer and snapped the cover shut. “Trust me. Online dating is the way to go.”
“Seems kind of impersonal.”
“You got that right.” She formed her fingers into the shape of a gun and pointed at him. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow for the couch. Should I take my .22 to bed with me?”
“That’s okay. I’ll take care of the firepower.”
“You don’t trust me? I’m a pretty good shot.”
“That’s a handy skill to have, but I’ll keep watch. You go to bed and think about where you want to move tomorrow.”
She put her laptop away and disappeared into the hallway for a minute. She returned with a folded blanket and a pillow from her bed in her arms with a toothbrush in its original package on top.
She tossed the toothbrush to him. “Courtesy of my dentist.”
“Floss, too? I’m a flosser.”
Tipping her head to one side so that her ponytail swung over her shoulder, she said, “I figured you for a flosser. Top right drawer of my vanity.”
“Thanks, Sophia.”
She folded her arms, grabbing handfuls of her Boston U sweatshirt at her sides. “No, thank you. I really don’t know what I would’ve done—or where I’d be now—if you hadn’t appeared in the backseat of my car after…”
Choked up by emotion or embarrassed by it, she spun around and made a beeline for her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
He grabbed the toothbrush and took it with him to the bathroom. He knew where she’d be about now—sitting under some hot light, probably tied up and getting interrogated by some very bad people. He would never allow that to happen to her.
After brushing his teeth he settled on the couch and flicked on the TV, his Glock beside him. Being on watch without his Win Mag always felt a little strange, but then everything about this assignment was strange.
He’d been too late to protect Dr. Hamid Fazal, but not too late to protect Sophia Grant. Now that he’d met the woman with the sad childhood and the hard shell, he’d do anything to keep her safe.
He’d never kept anything from his superiors before, but he just might want to conceal his crazy attraction to Sophia. Ariel, the woman he was supposed to be reporting to didn’t need
to know, even though he’d never allow his emotions to get the better of him.
That had happened only once.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, Sophia tiptoed out of her bedroom into the living room, but she needn’t have bothered. Austin, sitting on the edge of the couch, the pillow and folded blanket at one end, was clicking away on his cell phone. A flosser and an early riser.
She crossed her arms over the baggy T-shirt she wore to bed to match her equally baggy sweats. For the first time in about ever, she wished she had one of those filmy negligees to slink around in. Maybe she could actually get the man to notice when she walked into a room.
She cleared her throat. “Good morning.”
He jerked his head up. “Whoa. Why are you sneaking around?”
“I thought you might be sleeping.” She tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. “All quiet last night?”
“Yep.” He returned to his phone.
“Coffee?” She strolled into the kitchen and grabbed the coffeepot. “Do you think the people after me know that you’re here?”
He rose from the couch and stretched, his plain white T-shirt straining across an impressive set of muscles. “I think so, but whether or not they know who I am and why I’m here is a different story.”
The water from the faucet had spilled over the top of the coffeepot and splashed over her hand while she’d been ogling Austin’s physique. She shut off the faucet and tipped the excess water into the sink. “Would they have any reason to believe you’d be here?”
“Me, personally? No.” He crossed his arms and leaned against her kitchen table, dwarfing it. “But they might suspect that US Intelligence is onto them, especially after the murder of Fazal. They know there’s no way we’d let Fazal’s death go unnoticed and uninvestigated.”
“Was Dr. Fazal doing any work for the intelligence agencies? I mean currently?”
“Not that I know of, but then, I’m not privy to that kind of information. I protected the doctor once, and was called in on this assignment because he contacted an intelligence officer and because of the chatter.”