Scarlet Falls: Hour of Need Part 27

"I didn't want her to let those bullies win. I was afraid if she gave up and ran away, it would damage her forever," Mrs. Hamilton said quietly.

"No worries about that now, right?" Her husband's voice cut like a blade. "She didn't care about any of that. She just wanted to get away from a bunch of nasty, spoiled b.i.t.c.hes getting a real charge out of making her miserable."

His wife turned away from him without comment. Mrs. Hamilton drew her legs onto the sofa and curled them under her. "Everyone else in town, including the police, was more focused on Lindsay's emotional problems. We kept telling them she didn't have any emotional problems until we moved here, but it didn't seem to matter."

"I don't understand. That seems simple to me," Grant said.

"She'd been treated by a psychiatrist and was taking medication for ADHD in California. So even though her emotional issues were new, she had a past history of being treated by a psychiatrist. Then her new doctor here prescribed an antidepressant. We didn't tell anyone. She asked us not to." Mrs. Hamilton sighed. "She seemed to be feeling a little better."

Mr. Hamilton stirred. The set of his mouth disagreed with his wife. "I didn't want her to take them. One of the warnings on the label said that the drug could cause an increase in suicidal thoughts. How the h.e.l.l can they make an antidepressant that causes suicidal thoughts? The doctor gave us a list of signs to watch for. It seems we missed them."

Mrs. Hamilton shifted. "That's the real reason no one will take the case. They said we held back critical information that could have changed the way the school and the arena management dealt with the situation." Mrs. Hamilton interlaced her fingers and clenched her hands until her nails turned white. "And that the medication, along with our misreading Lindsay's moods, could have been determining factors in her suicide. They also suggested she had an undiagnosed mental illness before moving here."

Actually, the arguments sounded reasonable to Ellie, but she didn't say it. The Hamiltons were suffocating in guilt and blame. They didn't want to believe they were partially responsible for their daughter's death. That she could understand.

"You don't think that's possible?" Grant asked gently.

Mrs. Hamilton twisted her hands. "She always seemed happy before we moved."

"She was happy," her husband snapped. "We should have moved back, but you made her feel inadequate for wanting to give in to those bullies."

Mrs. Hamilton recoiled as if he'd slapped her.

Her husband rose. "I'm sorry." He bolted through the French doors, crossed the back porch, and descended the wooden steps to the ground. He strode into the meadow toward the woods. His anger left an electric-like charge in the room.

Mrs. Hamilton watched him go with a dead eye. Then she turned to Grant. "Your brother seemed particularly interested in copies of the threatening text messages Lindsay received, but I don't know why. The messages came from a burner phone, and the police couldn't prove who sent the calls. The phone never turned up. I've no doubt it was destroyed. Lindsay had received photos and video as well, but her phone was wiped out with a cell phone virus attached to one of the messages. Even the police experts weren't able to recover them. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a cell phone virus." Mrs. Hamilton paused and picked at her fingernails. "We were supposed to meet with your brother again the Monday following his death."

Grant's torso tilted forward. "Do you have copies of the texts?" When Mrs. Hamilton nodded, he asked. "Would you mind letting me read them? I promise to bring them back."

"I guess it doesn't matter now. It's not an open case. I'll make you a copy." Mrs. Hamilton rose and left the room. She returned in a few minutes with a sheaf of papers in her hand. "I don't know why you're doing this, but thank you. Since your brother died, we haven't been able to find another lawyer who will take the case." She paused. "That's not entirely true. We've actually had dozens of attorneys calling and knocking on the door, but none have been of the same caliber as Lee. We didn't want to damage our case by hiring someone disreputable. We wanted to be taken seriously."

"I won't share these with anyone, and if I discover anything, I'll let you know." Grant stood. "Thank you for your time."

Mrs. Hamilton showed them to the door, and they returned to the car.

"What do you think?" Ellie fastened her seat belt.

"They blame each other and themselves. He wanted to move back. She didn't want to give up. So he feels guilty for not fighting for his daughter, and she feels guilty for her decisions."

"It's a toxic environment. I wonder how their marriage fared before Lindsay's death."

"Who knows?" Grant turned the car around. "Having your child commit suicide could break anyone, but then again, the fact that they couldn't really come to an agreement over their daughter's predicament tells me they likely had problems before it happened."

Ellie's purse buzzed. She fished her phone out of the side pocket. Her nerves quivered. "I don't know that number."

"Is it the same number he used to threaten you before?"

"No." Ellie pressed the message bubble.

"He's probably using a burner phone once and destroying it. That's what I would do."

She read the message aloud. "I didn't tell you to talk to the Hamiltons."

Grant's gaze swept their surroundings. "I don't see how anyone could know we were here."

Ellie glanced behind them. "Unless he was watching the Hamilton's house from the woods."

"How would he know to do that?" At the end of the driveway, Grant stopped the car and got out.

"What?" Ellie followed him.

"How did he know where we were?" Grant circled the vehicle. "Do you have a flashlight in the glove box?"

"Yes." Ellie got it for him.

She rubbed her biceps against the breeze as he circled her car, running his hands under the b.u.mper and fenders. He dropped to the ground and shone the light across the vehicle's undercarriage.

"d.a.m.n it." He pulled off a two-inch black box that had been duct-taped to the undercarriage of her minivan.

"What is it?"

"Looks like a GPS tracker."

"Oh my G.o.d." Ellie's jaw dropped. She put a hand over her mouth. "He can track my movements with that?"

"Yes."

"Will he know you took it off the car?"

"No, as long as it's still transmitting, he'll just a.s.sume your van is where the unit is located." Grant got to his feet. "I know I promised I wouldn't tell McNamara, but I think we should call him."

"He said he'd hurt my family if I did that." Fear gathered in Ellie's throat.

Grant held up the device. "But we're no closer to delivering that file."

Tears burned at the corners of Ellie's eyes. What should she do? Grant was right. His thirty-six-hour promise had expired, but he was asking, not forcing her to change her mind. She couldn't deliver what Hoodie Man wanted. But going against his instructions and involving the police felt dangerous.

"Look, I can't stand sitting back and letting this all play out without taking action. How about we go back to Lee's, we'll read through these texts, and we'll make a plan?"

Ellie's phone buzzed again. "He sent another message."

Get that file by tomorrow or your family is dead.

Chapter Thirty-One.

Grant looked up from the page of text messages on the desk. "These are really nasty."

"They are." Sitting across from him, Ellie had her own stack of papers attached to a clipboard. "What kind of kid tells another to kill herself?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter how nasty the messages were if no one can prove who sent them."

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't know what to do. He's going to message me tomorrow. We don't have the file."

"We have two options. We could call the police. Or we could make our own file. He has no way of knowing it isn't the real file."

"I never thought of that." Ellie shifted backward, her skeleton straightening as the small hope he'd just presented gave her strength.

"I'm still thinking, but I think I can do even better than that." A couple of ideas were rolling around in his head. The thought of taking this campaign on the offense sent a bolt of energy through him. His desire to personally take care of Lee's killer was the real reason he hadn't insisted Ellie call the police. "Have you found any clues in those texts?"

"No." Ellie set the clipboard on the desk, stood, and stretched. "I have to run home for some clothes, and Julia needs clothes for skating practice tonight."

Grant went hard as his mind played a reel of their last visit to her house. They shouldn't do that again. Ellie didn't deserve to be hurt, but the solace he found with her was difficult to resist.

"I'm coming with you." Grant stood and picked up the baby monitor on the desk. "I'll let Hannah know."

"I'll tell Julia and Nan and see if there's anything else either of them needs from our house." Ellie left the office and headed upstairs, where Julia was finishing her homework before skating practice. Worn out from another night of little sleep and an outdoor play session with Grant and the dog, Carson was out cold.

Hannah was in the kitchen working on her laptop. Grant poked his head through the doorway. Piles of papers were spread out on the table in front of her. The baby was sleeping in the corner.

"Maybe the kids are actually vampires who don't like daylight," he said.

Hannah sighed. "That would explain a lot."

"Work or estate stuff?" he asked.

She lifted her head. "Yes."

"Where's Mac?"

"He went upstairs. Said he'd get some sleep now and take the first baby-walking-night-watchman shift."

"Good." Grant nodded toward the baby. Her screaming fits had been s.p.a.ced further apart the last two nights. He prayed the colic was easing. "Want to risk putting her in her crib upstairs?"

"h.e.l.l, no." Hannah grimaced. "Haven't you heard? Never wake a sleeping baby."

"I'm running next door with Ellie for a few minutes. She needs some things." He set the baby monitor on the corner of the desk. Since the baby wouldn't sleep in her crib at night, Grant had put the baby monitor base in Carson's room. The house was so big, he couldn't hear the boy from downstairs. "Can you listen for Carson?"

Hannah nodded. "Sure."

"Text me if either of them wakes up."

"All right." She bent her head over her papers again.

Stepping in front of Ellie, Grant scanned the outside through front and back windows before turning off the alarm and opening the front door. Locking the door behind him, he reset the security system with the fob on his keychain.

At Ellie's house, Grant went in first, Beretta in hand. A quick trip through the house verified they were alone. He ended the tour in the upstairs hall.

"It's clear." He holstered his weapon.

Ellie went into her bedroom. Grant followed, leaning on the wall while she set a small tote bag on a chest at the foot of the bed. She left the room for a few minutes and came back with an armload of clothes.

His phone buzzed. He read the display, hoping it wasn't Hannah. He really needed an hour off. At a swipe of his finger, a message from Mac displayed on the screen: Medical examiner released the bodies.

His mind resisted the news.

"Is everything all right?" Her eyes searched his.

He put the phone down. "Yes."

"OK. I'm just about done here." Her brows furrowed. She didn't believe him, but he didn't have the energy to explain. Exhaustion weighted his body, and he eyed the bed. Late nights with nightmares and crying children were taking their toll. "Would you mind if I closed my eyes for a combat nap?"

Ellie looked up from her packing, a folded sweater in her hands. "Not at all. Do you want me to leave the room?"

Grant stretched out on the bed. "Actually, would you mind lying here with me?"

"Not at all." She eased onto the bed next to him.

He rolled over, put an arm over her body, and buried his nose in her hair. She smelled like flowers. "Wake me in thirty minutes."

With years of practice, he slipped into a combat nap in seconds.

"Grant?" Ellie's whisper pulled him back. "It's been an hour, but you can sleep more if you like."

He opened his eyes. "You were supposed to wake me in thirty minutes."

"You were out cold." Her face was inches from his. Her hand rested on his shoulder. Contentedness washed over him. The moment felt almost painfully ordinary in the quiet bedroom. That was the most restful chunk of sleep he'd gotten since he came home. He could get used to seeing her when he woke.

He reached up and touched a lock of hair that fell over her shoulder. He twirled it around his finger. Every moment since he'd received the call about Lee had been filled with worry, grief, and fear. He didn't want to let this peaceful moment end. Just for a few minutes, he could pretend that waking to a beautiful woman was his normal. What would it be like to have moments like these all the time? Instances of intimacy that were earth-shatteringly common.

"Do you want to sleep more? You're up most of the night."

Sleep? That was not anything close to what he wanted to do right at this moment. He dropped her hair and curled his hand around the back of her neck, tugging her down to lean across his chest. Suspicion and desire darkened her eyes. Both emotions sent Grant's blood rushing south. He lifted his head and touched his lips to hers. The soft moan that slipped from her throat pulled his hips off the bed. Her mouth opened. He slipped his tongue into her heat, wishing for more. Ellie could heal him. But it was selfish to ask for her help. Whatever transpired between them couldn't be permanent.

But he tugged her across his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he deepened the kiss. His tongue stroked hers. She answered, opening her mouth for more. He delved deeper, want and need building until they blotted out the pain he'd been carrying for more than a week. All he wanted was Ellie. He wanted to steep himself in her until nothing else existed, and he wanted it badly enough to ignore the limits of their relationship. Just for now. One afternoon. That's all he was asking.

He slipped a hand under her sweater to caress the smooth skin of her waist. Her soft groan spurred him to move higher until he cupped her breast through the cotton of her bra. Her fingers clenched in his T-shirt, and the sc.r.a.pe of her nails against his skin made his erection pound. His hips lifted off the bed, seeking her body. She sat up, peeled her sweater over her head, and tossed it on the floor.

"Are you sure?"

Instead of answering, she flicked the front closure of her bra and freed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Small and round, they were in perfect proportion to her slim body. Grant cupped one in the palm of his hand. His thumb flicked over the nipple. Ellie arched back, the pleasure on her face transforming her wholesome looks into an erotic dream.

Needing more direct contact, he levered his torso up on the bed and whipped off his shirt. He slid his jeans off his legs, reached into his pocket for his wallet, and took out a condom.