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Liam slammed the flaps down, knocking it back in. He held it closed with the flashlight and blew out a long breath. “Animal control.” He still had his phone handy and made the call. When he’d hung up, he said, “Roxie, get me something to set on the lid so it can’t get out.” She didn’t reply. He glanced over his shoulder. “Roxie?”
She appeared, face pale and eyes wide. Totally in shock. She handed over a book—a Bible. “Like this?” Her voice shook.
“Thanks.” His Bible sat dusty on his shelf at home. This one looked like it had been appreciated and enjoyed for years. Was it hers? He set the book on the box and straightened, turning to the door just as it slammed in his face.
He lifted his fist and knocked. “Roxie!”
No answer.
He hammered. Rang the bell. “Roxie!” He needed to know she hadn’t passed out. “I’m calling an ambulance, and I will break this door down if you don’t answer me.”
“It isn’t locked.” Her voice sounded muffled.
Liam twisted the handle and entered. He found her on the floor in the hall, back to the wall and her knees up. The strong soldier he knew looked so small sitting there that he wanted to scoop her up and hold on to her.
Instead, he crouched to do a visual assessment of her shock symptoms. He would’ve called an ambulance if he didn’t know she’d been a marine. Instead, he asked, “A snake?”
Her entire body shuddered.
“Okay, okay.” He winced. “We won’t talk about the box.”
“You should go.” She gasped, trying to rally herself. “I’ll deal with animal control.”
She really thought he’d voluntarily leave her like this? “I’ll deal with them. I called it in.” Sounded official, and she might be out of it enough not to argue. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He figured embarrassment would win out over the shock, and after he’d come here to get her to agree to leave his father’s case alone, he hadn’t expected to land in the middle of something else entirely.
Something that might explain a few things.
He watched her settle. The faraway look in her eyes started dissipating in place of the focus he was more familiar with. Then again, he’d seen intensity in her eyes, which was his favorite.
No, he didn’t need to remember what drew him to her.
She was in the middle of something, and he had plenty to occupy him. Maybe the timing never would’ve been right for them. It was probably pointless to try now, even if it was possible to get past everything. Why go for it when the end result would inevitably be failure? He didn’t like losing.
“Tell me what’s going on?” Liam spoke softly, using the tone he applied to situations with traumatized victims. “Who sent that box?”
She only shook her head in a jerky move. Then she looked at the open door and the box.
“It’s not coming out.” Liam paused. “I do need you to tell me what this is.” Someone was targeting her. He could guess, but he needed the truth and not conclusions that would color how he went forward. He’d be working on assumptions, not facts. “Roxie?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “That is my name.”
He frowned.
“Roxanne.”
“But you were Anne.”
“And now I’m Roxie.” She sniffed. “I like it better.”
“It does suit you.” But why had she opted for another name in the Marine Corps? Rather than ask, he said, “I’d like to help you. If you’ll let me.”
He was a cop. But that didn’t automatically mean people trusted him. Used to be it was more of a given that cops could be trusted. Lately, less so. Though, only because of the few bad eggs. He didn’t worry about it elsewhere, just Benson. And even here there had been dirty cops—Hank Maxwell had been a killer.
No one wanted a repeat of that.
Or the rest of it, which was far too close to home.
