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• • •
Lennox flinched after reading the note, and the hand holding it began to tremble. What in the world…
Who would be so cruel as to suggest such a thing? DeWalt’s death had been an accident. He was allergic to peanuts and some had inadvertently been added to his food.Even the hotel had admitted negligence. Why on earth would anyone think DeWalt was murdered. That was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.
Deeply shaken, she drew in a deep breath, wondering how this envelope had gotten inside her convention bag? She thought back to that first day at the convention. After she’d picked the swag bag up at the registration desk, she’d taken it to her hotel room and checked out the goodies inside. This envelope had not been inside it.
That meant that the person who’d left the envelope in the bag had been close enough to her to drop it in when she wasn’t looking. And the only people who’d been that close were friends and former colleagues.
She studied the handwriting on the envelope, but didn’t recognize it. Still, it was widely known that doctors typically had bad handwriting. This note was neat and easy to read. Had that been intentional, so she would not mistake what it said?
And what did it mean, that she should watch her back? DeWalt had died almost five years ago. If his death hadn’t been an accident, why was she just learning of it now? Why hadn’t the person who’d written this note come forward when it had happened, or soon thereafter?
As she studied the paper in her hand, she started to pace. Who, in their right mind, would think of making a murder seem like a severe allergic reaction? But then, hadn’t Sanchez and Acklin asked a similar question? Who would stage a murder to appear to be a suicide?
The candy bar all but forgotten, she went to get her phone off the coffee table. She needed to talk to Joy. Her friend, a lieutenant in the police department, would be ableto tell her if she should take the contents of the note seriously or not.
Then she glanced at her watch. It was close to nine. Chances were, Joy was spending family time with the baby and Stonewall. The last thing Lennox wanted to do was interrupt what little time her friend got with her husband and child. She could wait and talk to Joy tomorrow.
She started pacing again and almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the sound of someone moving around outside her door. Since this was a secured building, she knew it couldn’t be the meal delivery service. They would have to leave it downstairs at the front desk. That could only mean one thing—Roland was outside. Why hadn’t he knocked? She sighed. He was probably trying to find the nerve, after his less than hospitable attitude earlier. And if he was there to give her his phone number after all, it was too late. She didn’t want it now. In her present frame of mind--after finding the note--not having Roland’s phone number was the least of her worries. She didn’t want to see him again tonight, so when he finally found the nerve to knock, she wouldn’t answer it.
Lennox was walking toward her bedroom when suddenly, her front door was kicked in. She let out a scream, then raced into the room and locked the door.
• • •
Roland was searching his kitchen cabinets for a container with a lid. Whether Lennox wanted it or not, he was going to take her some spaghetti casserole. Even if she’d alreadyeaten, she could save it for another day. Everyone knew casseroles made the best leftover meals.
Ignoring the rush of heat that raced up his spine, he did his best to get his libido in check at the thought of seeing Lennox again. It wasn’t that big of a deal—he was just being neighborly. So why was his body reacting the way it was? He would simply knock on her door, hand her the container, apologize for his earlier attitude earlier, give her his number and get hers. All of that shouldn’t take any more than five minutes at the most.
Suddenly, he heard a woman’s piercing scream, and he knew it had come from across the hall. “What the hell!”
Rushing from the kitchen, he grabbed his gun off the table and raced to the door. Roland snatched it open in time to see that a man dressed in dark clothing and wearing a ski mask had kicked down Lennox’s door.
Aiming his gun, Roland shouted, “Stop right there!”
The intruder took a shot at him. Roland quickly took cover behind the bookcase, then fired back. For once he appreciated the bookcase being there. How in the hell had the guy gotten in? If not by the elevator, then it had to be the stairway. But he’d been told, when he’d moved in, that the door to the stairway was always locked from this side. So how had it been opened?
The man fired again, making it obvious that he wanted to engage Roland in an exchange of gunfire. “No problem,” Roland muttered through gritted teeth. Roland’s pistol was fully loaded, and he was one hell of a shot. He hoped that Lennox was somewhere safe, inside one of the bedrooms, and had called the police.
No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, that he heard the sound of a police siren. “You might as well give yourself up,” he called out to the man.
The man’s response was to take another shot at Roland, the bullet barely missing him. When the man began spraying a succession of shots, Roland had to wonder at the man’s intent. Since he couldn’t barricade himself in Lennox’s condo with no door, would he try escaping from her balcony? Would he take Lennox hostage?
When the man darted into her condo, Roland quickly moved, missing another bullet. When he eased toward the door, Roland saw the man heading toward the dining room where the door to the balcony was located.
Roland had figured right. The man was planning to jump from the balcony, though the condo was five stories up. “Stop right there or I’ll shoot!” Roland said, calling out a warning.
When the man began shooting again, Roland took aim and fired. The man’s body fell to the floor and there was no need for Roland to check his condition. His gun took no prisoners.
He quickly went back into the living room. He saw Lennox’s closed bedroom door and hoped like hell that she had barricaded herself inside. He called out to her. “Lennox! Are you okay?”
The bedroom door eased open a little and then it flung wide open. His gaze immediately took in her trauma-stricken features just seconds before she raced across the room and straight into his arms. Burying her face in his chest, she clutched him for dear life.
And he held her.
LENNOX WAS STILL SHAKINGand she couldn’t seem to stop.
Glancing around her condo, she couldn’t believe what she saw--the place she called home was now a crime scene. Yellow police tape sealed off the area that included most of the lobby outside her condo and crisscrossed to a large area of her home, including the dining room where a body still lay. There were bullet holes in her walls--Lots of them.
