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  Maybe, although she hadn’t seen Tyrone since he’d failed his random drug test. He’d wanted her to lie for him. Of course she’d refused. “Sometimes I wonder if I really do any of my clients any good,” she murmured.

  Max shot her a surprised glance. “What makes you say that?”

  Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t like her, so she tried to snap out of it. Melissa’s and Tyrone’s failures weren’t her fault. “Never mind. Just a moment of weakness.”

  The downtown police station wasn’t far. She walked in, feeling a bit apprehensive. Detective Graham came to meet her and then escorted her over to a one-way mirror overlooking one of the interrogation rooms. Inside, Tyrone Adams sat slouched in his chair, flanked by officers Anderson and Schimberg.

  “He doesn’t have a solid alibi for Friday night during the time frame between when your dog was drugged and the bomb was placed in your house,” Detective Graham explained. “Claimed he was with a bunch of his loser friends, but I’m sure they’d lie to cover for him. He can’t give me the name of any reliable adult who be able to verify they saw him that night.”

  Her stomach churned as she watched the police officers continue to question Tyrone. Suddenly he got angry and sat up straight, saying something defiant to the officers. Now that she was looking at him sitting in the chair, she realized he was much shorter than she’d realized. “I don’t think that’s him,” she said, casting a concerned glance at Max. “He’s too short to be the guy we saw behind the wheel of the brown car.”

  Max nodded slowly. “You’re right. He is definitely much shorter than the guy we saw in the car.” He turned toward Detective Graham. “Did you find Steve Jasper yet?”

  “No, we’re working on that now. It’s only been what, a couple hours since you faxed the list over to us? Our attention up until today has been focused on this one here.” He indicated Tyrone Adams with the jerk of his thumb. “You’re sure he’s not the one who’s been following you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tara said lifting her shoulders helplessly. “But I really don’t think so.”

  “All right,” Detective Graham said with a heavy sigh. “I was going to ask how well you knew his loser friends, since he gave me a list, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. We’ll have to let him go and work on finding this guy, Jasper, instead.”

  “I wish I could do more to help,” Tara murmured.

  “You’re doing fine,” Max surprised her by saying, flashing a gentle smile. “Once they pick up Jasper, this will likely be over. I have a strong hunch he’s your guy.”

  He could be right. She turned to the detective. “Is there a way to find out if my checking account has been tampered with?”

  “Your checking account?” Max echoed incredulously. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember when I went to the hospital ATM?” she asked. “Well, there wasn’t any money in my checking account. And I know there wasn’t a lot to start, but I’m sure there was at least five hundred sixty dollars. I couldn’t even take out twenty—the message kept reading Insufficient Funds.”

  “We can look into it,” Detective Graham said, scratching his jaw with a frown. “Are you saying your stalker accessed your bank account?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s not too likely. Maybe it is some sort of bank error.”

  “The guy was in her house,” Max pointed out. “It’s not that much of a stretch to think he’d copied down her bank-account information and figured out a way to hack into it.”

  “A hacker?” Detective Graham raised a brow. “Not exactly the profile of your average stalker.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think your average stalker blows up their victim’s house, either,” Max said dryly. “This guy isn’t just obsessed. He wants to hurt her. He’s looking for some sort of revenge.”

  “All right, tell me about this Steve Jasper,” Detective Graham said, turning toward Tara. “Why do you suddenly think he’s the guy who’s been stalking you?”

  “I met him a few years ago. He had a ten-year-old daughter, Stacey, who was reported by the school as having suspicious bruises,” Tara said, repeating the story for the detective. “I was the social worker assigned to Stacey’s case, so I went to their house for a home visit. Just watching Stacey interact with her father made me suspicious. She watched him warily, as if expecting him to lash out at any moment. She jumped like he’d shocked her, nearly tripping over her feet in her anxiety to do what he’d asked.”

  “You think Jasper was beating his daughter?” Detective Graham asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

  “Yes.” Even now, two years later, there was no doubt in her mind about that. “I went back for a second follow-up visit, unannounced as we’re instructed to do, and I could hear him screaming at her before I even got up to the door. She was crying when I arrived, and her cheek was bright red as if he’d slapped her. I took Stacey away right then and there. A couple days later, I had to appear in court to testify as to why we’d removed the girl from his custody.”

  “Tell him the rest,” Max urged when she stopped.

  She took a deep breath. “Mr. Jasper lost his temper in the courtroom after I gave my testimony. I don’t know if he was drinking or on drugs, but he screamed at me, like he’d screamed at his daughter the day I showed up at their house. He threatened to kill me. The police arrested him at the time, but I thought it might be possible he’s out on parole by now.”

  “Hmm. That would explain why he waited so long to go after you,” Detective Graham grudgingly admitted. “You’re right. Jasper is a strong possibility. We’ll get working on finding this guy right away. Should be easy enough to make sure he’s not still doing jail time.”

  “Thanks,” she said, relieved to have everything out in the open. “I appreciate your help. And I’m sorry about Tyrone. At the time I really thought he might be a suspect.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Detective Graham waved a hand. “The important thing here is that we find this guy before he lashes out at anyone else.”

  “I agree, but Tara’s safety is the primary concern,” Max added. “So far, we don’t know that he’s taken his anger out on anyone else.”

  Detective Graham’s eyes narrowed, as if he didn’t appreciate Max telling him how to do his job. “But now that you’re doing such a good job of hiding Ms. Carmichael, he’s bound to be frustrated and angry. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s a threat to the public, as well. We’ll get him,” he added, turning toward Tara. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay.” Tara tried to smile. She caught one last look at Tyrone, who was sitting with his head buried in his hands. The poor kid must have been shaken by being picked up by the police and brought down here. The social-worker part of her wanted to talk to Tyrone, to see how he was doing, but this was hardly the time or the place.

  Max was quiet as they made their way back to the car. Darkness had fallen, the days much shorter now with winter approaching. She glanced at Max’s strong profile, wondering what he was thinking. He seemed so certain Steve Jasper was guilty, but she’d already been wrong about Tyrone. What if she was wrong about Steve, too? She didn’t like the idea she was adding to their problems by claiming they might be her stalker.

  The wind picked up, sending a sharp cold breeze over her. She shivered, ducking into the warmth of Max’s rental car.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb, merging into traffic.

  “Tell you what? About my checking account?”

  “Yeah.” Max’s expression was impossible to read in the dark. “You told me the machine was broken.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I honestly thought the machine was broken at first, or that I was losing my mind, forgetting how much money I had in my account. But as the day went on, I kept thinking about it, mentally retracing the various things I bought, and soon realized the discrepancy might not be just my imagination.”

  “And you didn’t think it was important enough to mention?” he a
sked, skeptically.

  “I was going to tell you at lunch, but we were interrupted by Annie,” she said a little defensively. “At that moment, finding Gary was more important than my problems.”

  Max was silent for a moment. “Nothing is more important than your safety, Tara,” he said in a serious tone. “Nothing. Please remember that the next time it seems like I’m not listening to you.”

  A warm flush crept into her cheeks at his caring attitude. This was obviously his way of declaring a truce after their earlier argument. She shouldn’t read too much into his sincere tone. This was just his way of being nice.

  She’d truly felt horrible that she’d been unable to give Max the information he’d so desperately wanted about Melissa. But then again, he wouldn’t be at all happy to know the full extent of trouble his sister had gotten into. In some respects, working as a waitress in a strip club was nothing compared to drug abuse.

  She’d tried to get Melissa back on track. And she had quit drugs but then had gotten tangled up with Gary.

  “Are we heading back to the hotel?” she asked, changing the subject. “We still need to research Under the Beam. I was thinking we could just look it up in the phone book. Not every place has a Web site, but they should all be listed in the phone directory.”

  “True,” he agreed slowly. “I guess I will head back. Do you mind eating dinner at the hotel?”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Whatever is easier for you is fine with me.” She hesitated, and then added, “I want you to know, Max, that once this is all over I will pay you back for everything you’ve done for me. I’m really not trying to take advantage of your kindness.”

  “Tara, have I given you the impression that I need payment?” Max asked with a hint of exasperation. “Because that’s not true at all. In fact, in some ways I’m taking advantage of you. Going through this alone would be much worse. I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m not helping you out because I expect something in return. Knowing you were here for my sister while I was gone is enough for me.”

  “All right, I won’t mention it again.” She dropped the issue for now, even though she could have pointed out that working with his sister was part of her job. Once they found Gary, and Max headed back to Iraq, she vowed to do a better job with Melissa. This time, she wouldn’t just treat Max’s sister like a client. She’d reach out as a friend.

  “Let’s eat first,” Max suggested. “Then research the matchbook.”

  She didn’t protest when he led the way into the tiny dining room. The fare was simple, but she didn’t mind. She’d never acquired a taste for fancy food anyway.

  They gave their order to the waitress. Distracted, Max stared off into the distance, as if he’d forgotten she was there. Something was bothering him.

  “What is it?” she asked, a little disconcerted that she was so in tune to his emotions after only knowing him for twenty-four hours.

  “Peggy Sue’s description of Gary has been bugging me,” he admitted. “The scar and the tattoo. Reminds me of a guy I knew a few years ago in Iraq who got a similar scar on his face during a tussle with an Iraqi hostile.”

  “Really?” She leaned forward. “Do you think it’s the same man?”

  Max frowned and shook his head. “I can’t see how it could be the same guy. Shortly after I was promoted to lieutenant, I found him taking his bitter anger out on our Iraqi prisoners so I had him arrested.” His expression turned grim. “Last I knew Billy was serving time in Leavenworth for his crimes.”

  NINE

  Max hadn’t thought about Billy in a long time. The soldier had given the U.S. a bad name in Baghdad, during a time they very much needed the cooperation of the local citizens.

  Billy had blamed all Iraqis for his disfiguring scar. He’d taken too much pleasure in strong-arming the prisoners. And he’d blamed Max for turning him in.

  “So his name is Billy, not Gary,” Tara said with a sigh.

  Not exactly. He rubbed his jaw. “Actually, his name was Garth Williams, but he preferred to be called Billy. Rumor had it that Billy’s mother divorced his father, leaving Billy with his dad while she went on to pursue a country-music career. Which might explain some of the animosity toward his given name.”

  “Garth? Gary? They really could be the same guy,” Tara said eagerly. “If he’s not still in Leavenworth.”

  “I’ll make a few phone calls to make sure,” Max agreed slowly. “Although I can’t believe he would have gotten out this soon.”

  “And it would be quite a coincidence that he ended up here in St. Louis, dating your sister,” Tara mused.

  Max scowled. He didn’t believe in coincidences—especially not this one. Had Billy come here on purpose? He’d know Max was still in the military, though, wouldn’t he? So what was the reason Billy had come here?

  He pulled out his cell phone to see if he could reach his commanding officer, but it rang before he could punch in the number. Surprised, he answered, “Hello?”

  “Lieutenant Forrester? This is Dr. Kappel from St. Louis General Hospital. I’m afraid your sister has taken a turn for the worse. Are you somewhere nearby? I’d like you to come in as soon as possible. I need your consent to take her for emergency surgery.”

  “I’m across the street. I’ll be right there,” Max said quickly, pushing away from the table so fast he knocked his chair over.

  “What’s wrong?” Tara asked, jumping to her feet taking the time to pick up his chair.

  He threw down enough money to cover the tab and grabbed Tara’s hand. “We have to go. Lissa has taken a turn for the worse. They want my permission to take her for emergency surgery.”

  “Lieutenant Forrester?” Dr. Kappel glanced over at them when they walked in.

  “Yes.” Max looked up at the monitor over Lissa’s bed, but he couldn’t really make sense of the numbers. He returned the doctor’s handshake. “Tell me what’s going on with Lissa.”

  Dr. Kappel glanced at Tara. “Is it okay for me to go into detail in front of your companion?”

  “Yes.” Max’s impatience got the best of him. “You think Lissa needs surgery?”

  “We’ve been monitoring your sister’s intracranial pressure, and it’s been going up all afternoon. Now it’s at a dangerously high level. I’d like to take her to surgery in order to remove the blood clot that’s formed in her brain to see if that helps relieve the pressure.”

  “But isn’t there a chance the surgery alone could cause her brain to swell, too?” Tara asked.

  Max glanced at her gratefully. His medical knowledge was very limited.

  “There is a risk, yes,” Dr. Kappel admitted. “But quite honestly, the risk of not doing anything is higher than if we operate. Her intracranial pressure is already dangerously high. If we don’t do anything, there’s a very good chance all the blood supply will be cut off from her brain and she’ll die.”

  Lissa couldn’t die. She was too young. How could this have happened? Remembering the violent scene inside her apartment made a red haze of fury cloud his vision.

  If Billy had done this to Lissa, he wouldn’t rest until he’d hunted the man down with or without the help of the authorities.

  “The decision is yours, Lieutenant Forrester,” Dr. Kappel reminded him.

  “Take her to surgery,” Max said in a voice hoarse with emotion.

  His words spurred the health care team into immediate action. The surgeon made him sign the consent form while the nurses quickly disconnected Lissa from the monitors. In less than five minutes, they were ready to go.

  Max barely had time to bend over and press a kiss against Lissa’s forehead before they whisked her away. He stared blindly after them, and then the pressure became too much. He needed to be alone. He spun on his heel and stalked away.

  The hospital corridors were relatively empty this late at night. Without realizing it, he found himself heading down to the hospital chapel, located not far from the first-floor lobby.

  He wasn’t sure why
he’d come. He didn’t know what to say or if any prayer he might offer would even be heard.

  God had turned his back on his soldiers. On Keith. Good men who’d lost their lives in battle. Why hadn’t their prayers been heard? Why would God listen to him now?

  There was no answer. Silence filled the chapel.

  A muffled sound caught his attention. He turned to glance behind him, not surprised to see Tara hovering in the doorway, her expression full of hope.

  “I haven’t been to church in over four years,” he said in a low voice. Better for Tara to understand that his being here wasn’t a major revelation or anything.

  “Understandable since you’ve been in Iraq for a majority of the time,” she said, coming over to sit beside him.

  “No, it’s more than that. It’s been difficult to believe. To have faith. My best friend, Keith, died in my arms despite my prayers…” His voice trailed off. He could still see Keith’s pain-ravaged face, his buddy’s concern over leaving his wife and son when he knew he wasn’t going to make it.

  “I felt the same way after Ted died,” she admitted softly. “He was so young, and we’d only been married a couple months when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. At the time, I just couldn’t understand why God was taking him away from me.”

  He couldn’t imagine how difficult that must have been for her. “Yet you still believe,” he said, making it a statement, not a question.

  Her smile was lopsided. “Yes. I do. I won’t lie to you, Max. There are times I still struggle with losing Ted, but deep down I know God has a reason for taking my husband. I might not understand the reason, but that doesn’t negate the fact that it exists.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Max asked, unable to mask his lingering despair. “It doesn’t seem fair for good people like Keith, or my sister or your husband to suffer, while others don’t.”

  She leaned forward and took his hand in hers, as if willing him to believe like she did. “I believe Ted is in a much better place, Max. And so is Keith. Don’t you remember what the Bible says? ‘I say to you, he who hears My Word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but has passed from death into life.’”