The Warning Sign Read online

  The fact that Knight was right didn’t make his words any easier to hear.

  “How do you intend to keep her safe?” Matthew asked.

  The sincerity in his tone made Ryan Knight’s head jerk toward him.

  “Not here. This apartment has been compromised. But let me just say for the record that if someone tries to hurt Sara again, I’ll have no hesitation about neutralizing them.” Ryan attached Lulu’s leash and hefted Sara’s suitcase. He jerked his head toward the door. “Follow me, detective. You and I have things to discuss. Elsewhere.”

  Matthew hadn’t considered that their conversation might be overheard by unfriendly ears. Electronic surveillance on a murder witness who reportedly couldn’t identify the killer ratcheted Valenti’s killing up another notch on Matthew’s weird-o-meter.

  What the hell kind of person had Sara stumbled into when she speechread that conversation?

  ~

  Neville’s bugs were about to become useless. Sara Kelley had discovered the tracking device in her phone, and this guy she was seeing put two and two together and came up with the right even number.

  Ryan Knight. At least, Neville had a name now, but who was he? The way he used ‘compromise’ and ‘neutralize’ suggested military. That was the last thing Neville needed and he vented his frustration in a complex tapestry of expletives.

  When he exhausted his profane vocabulary and started repeating himself, Neville finally stopped swearing and settled himself with his laptop. He typed ‘Ryan Knight Boston’ and hit enter. Google responded with ten plus pages of hits.

  Why couldn’t the guy have a more distinctive name?

  This was going to take a while. Neville turned to his other asset and brought up the tracking system. A real time street map of Boston coalesced on his computer screen. A blip was inching toward Copley Square. The chip in Sara’s cell phone was still riding the Green Line, lodged in a grimy corner of one of the subway cars.

  “No telling how long it’ll be there.” Neville deleted that particular chip from his system.

  Several other dots pulsed at the location of Sara’s apartment, but one of them was moving. Knight must have picked up the right jacket or shoes or maybe even the spare leash for the little dog that Neville had managed to light up with his infinitesimally tiny tracking devices.

  The blip turned and started east on Revere Beach Parkway.

  Neville smiled. “Gotcha.”

  Chapter 20

  “Sara is staying with me,” Ryan said once they exited the apartment building.

  He’d suspected as much, but Matthew’s blood pressure ticked up several notches anyway. “Slick move, Knight. I can imagine what that does for you, but how does that protect her?”

  Ryan ignored the jibe. “My condo is on the top floor of a secure building—24/7 concierge, cameras in the elevators that are monitored constantly, the works.”

  Matthew frowned. That was a lot of security for a single guy. Usually it took a wife and a kid before a man thought about that level of protection. “What have you got up there? The original Red Sox baseball card collection?”

  Ryan shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “Right now, I’ve got Sara,” he said. “And if someone does manage to make it through the security measures, I’m a fifth degree black belt who’s licensed to carry. If someone comes after Sara at my place, I’ll take him out.”

  Ordinarily, Matthew took a very dim view of that sort of vigilantism, but if it protected Sara, he’d give his grudging approval.

  “You didn’t drive here?” Matthew asked when Ryan turned to walk along the busy six lane street.

  “In case you didn’t hear, my car is in the Atlantic,” Knight said. “Besides, it’s not far.”

  Matthew strode to his car and motioned Ryan to get in.

  “I called you by name in the apartment,” Matthew said. “If someone has bugged the place like you claim, they may reason that Sara is alone and vulnerable. The sooner we get back to her, the better.”

  “It’ll take him a while to find me,” Ryan said. “I’m unlisted.”

  But he climbed into Matthew’s old Camry and gave him terse directions.

  The building was all Ryan said it was. Sleek. Coolly elegant. And tight as a snare drum for security.

  Knight made him wait in the trendy lobby while he went up to ask if Sara would deign to see him. Matthew forced himself not to run to the elevator when the concierge took a call from Knight and gave Matthew the green light to go up to number 1205.

  Penthouse.

  Matthew ground his teeth together. He’d never be able to give Sara this level of luxury unless he worked all the way up to Commissioner. Maybe not even then. He resented every step on the sisal carpet that took him to apartment 1205.

  Ryan Knight was waiting for him at the door. He held it open for Matthew, scowling as he did so.

  Matt pushed past him. All his irritation over the exotic hardwoods and leather furniture faded when he saw Sara. She’d tucked her legs under her in the crook of the curving sofa. She was lost in sweats several sizes too big, looking small and vulnerable. Lulu gave a yip from her place on Sara’s lap. It took everything in him not to run to her on the spot and kneel at her feet.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked at him, her eyes enormous and nodded. “Thanks to Ryan.”

  “Look, honey—”

  Her frown shouted ‘don’t honey me.’

  “You’ve got to understand something. I didn’t—” He perched on one of the sleek chrome and leather designer-type chairs and was instantly aware of Knight’s brooding presence behind him. He half-turned to speak over his shoulder to the guy. “Could you give us a minute?”

  Ryan looked askance at Sara and she gave him a small nod.

  “If you need me, sing out.” Knight strode to the balcony and slid the door nearly closed behind him.

  “Sara, I didn’t receive that text from you.” Matthew forced himself to maintain eye contact and speak slowly like she always wanted him to. If he was only going to have one chance to explain, he wanted to do it right. “I was in the captain’s office. Brittany intercepted your text and she’s the one who responded, not me.”

  “So while I was nearly getting myself killed, your girlfriend was playing with your phone. Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “No matter what’s passed between us, you can’t believe I’d ignore you when you’re in trouble. If anything had happened to you today…” He closed his eyes against the possibility. He couldn’t let his mind wander that dark road. “Brittany and I are done. Permanently.”

  Sara looked away, digesting the news. Matthew didn’t expect a ticker tape parade, but he was hoping for some kind of reaction from her, some hint of what she was thinking. Usually, he could read her, but her tight-lipped expression gave away nothing. He leaned over and rested his fingertips on her knee.

  “Sara?”

  She startled at his touch and her soft-eyed gaze slid back to him. “I think that’s for the best. She was wrong for you.”

  “I know that now. It’s like waking from a bad dream. I’m finally seeing clearly for the first time in months.” He pulled his hand back and drew a deep breath. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am…for everything. I’ve been a sonofabitch.”

  “I get that you think I’m naïve, but I’m not totally stupid. You can’t break up with Brittany and call yourself names and expect me to pretend it never happened.” She spoke through a clenched jaw, but the hurt poured out of her. “What do you want from me, Matthew? Absolution? Talk to Father Murphy. I’m fresh out of indulgences here.”

  Tears trembled on her lashes but she wouldn’t let them fall. A fist tightened in his chest.

  Yes, he wanted her to forgive him. He wanted to spin the world in the opposite direction back to the time when the only woman he’d ever lain beside was the green-eyed girl in front of him. He wanted her back something fierce.

  The set of her chin told him it wasn’t happenin
g.

  “I guess for now, I want you to trust me enough to help keep you safe,” Matthew said cautiously. “Can you let me do that much?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Good.” It wasn’t much but at least she hadn’t thrown him out on his ear like he deserved. He couldn’t be her husband, not yet anyway, but he damn sure could be a good cop. Matthew pulled out his little notebook and slid into detective mode. “I need for you to start at the beginning and tell me what happened on the T today. Don’t leave out anything.”

  ~

  Ryan glanced over his shoulder, feeling like a voyeur on his own balcony. Sara and her ex were just talking. The guy reached over and touched her briefly and then drew his hand back. Ryan forced himself to focus on the view of the Mystic River and beyond to the Boston skyline sprouting on the horizon.

  It was too soon to care so deeply about Sara. He wondered at the strength of his feelings. It was more than just physical attraction, though there was plenty of that. He admired her determination and her honesty.

  He loved the way her mind worked and the way she expressed herself, and not just verbally. Despite her protestations to the contrary, her hands were poetry when she signed. He never tired of watching her face. Even now when hurt and fear was etched on her lovely features. Everything she felt was written there so plainly. She’d never make it at a poker table.

  He respected her for not sleeping with him on the WaveDancer, though his body rebelled at that thought. She was stronger than he was in that respect. And she was right. It was too soon. There was too much else going on between them to complicate their relationship with sex.

  Not that he wouldn’t love to complicate the hell out of it anyway.

  But if there was any future for him and Sara, it couldn’t start until her unfinished business with Matt Kelley was settled.

  Ryan was willing to wait, but he hoped she’d figure it out soon. They had similar interests, a common way of looking at life, and whether Sara knew it or not, they both walked a fine line. They were both caught between two worlds.

  As if on cue, his other world dipped into the life he tried so hard to make his one and only. His cell phone rang.

  “Hello, Uncle Nicky.”

  “About that other matter I promised to look into…” Nicholas Garibaldi let a few pregnant seconds hang in silence. “My friend doesn’t seem to be answering his phone.”

  Nick knows the assassin, but he’s not able to reach him. And Uncle Nick wasn’t stupid enough to leave a message on anyone’s machine.

  “So like I’m always telling you, a wise man is a cautious man and keeps track of those he cares about,” he went on. Your girl is still a target until you hear otherwise.

  “Do you know why this is happening?” Ryan asked.

  “Ryan, if you want in on company decisions, all you have to do is ask,” Nicholas said calmly. “Come up next weekend. We’ll talk.”

  Surely this wasn’t some elaborate scheme of Uncle Nicky’s to get Ryan into the family business. There was no chance of that happening. Once a man got involved with the Garibaldi family, there was no getting out alive.

  Wasn’t Ryan’s father proof of that?

  He needed to find out why Valenti was murdered in the first place. Maybe then he’d know how deeply his uncle’s involvement ran. He glanced back into his living room. Sara was talking and the cop was taking notes. The private conversation was over and it was safe for him to rejoin them.

  Maybe that was the key. If he joined forces with the detective, he might learn what he needed to know. After all, he’d pretended to be a Taliban convert long enough to infiltrate a cell and clone their laptop once. Pretending to get along with Matthew Kelley would be a stretch, but he’d manage it.

  “So, what’ll it be?” Nick Garibaldi’s voice on the phone called him back to the moment.

  “Raincheck, Uncle Nicky. Love to Aunt Marie.” He hoped that was his uncle’s current wife’s name. It was hard to keep track of the players without a program.

  Ryan ended the call and turned back into his condo. The tension between his world and the world of Nick Garibaldi left him walking a tight rope, but he was determined not to fall.

  Or if he did, to fall on the right side.

  He didn’t want to make a deal with his uncle, but to keep Sara safe, it might just come to that.

  Chapter 21

  Sara spent the weekend in near hibernation. When she managed to drop off, Ryan let her rest as long as she could. Only in her exhausted sleep without dreams, was she able to live in a world where someone wasn’t trying to kill her.

  Her days were spent in preparing light meals which she pushed around her plate without bothering to eat, watching old movies and talking with Ryan. He was a wonderful distraction and as it turned out, he really did have all his old scout badges.

  If the fact that someone was trying to kill her wasn’t hanging over her head, she’d have enjoyed herself thoroughly.

  When she and Ryan worked side by side in the kitchen, a hum of awareness simmered between them. And snuggling on the couch with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her was both comforting and arousing. She loved the lazy way he drew his fingertips from her shoulder down her whole arm and back again in a subconscious caress while they watched TV.

  But Ryan didn’t press her physically. She was grateful for it. Her emotions were confused enough as it was without adding sex to the mix.

  Matt was a free man.

  A year ago, she’d have given anything to hear him say he was finished with Brittany. Now she didn’t know how to catalogue what she was feeling, so she tried to shove it aside to be dealt with later.

  Which left her puzzling over Anthony Valenti and the man who killed him.

  And then tried to kill her.

  Even though Ryan’s apartment was better than a five star resort, she began to go quietly stir-crazy.

  “If I could just figure out why, maybe it would make sense,” she said aloud over her mushroom omelet. She and Ryan were eating on his terrace, enjoying the cool breeze rising from the Mystic River.

  “Why what?”

  “Why Valenti was killed.”

  “That’s a mystery for the police to solve,” Ryan said as he sopped up the last of his eggs with a piece of wheat toast.

  “Matthew said they haven’t made any progress on that front.” Sara drummed her fingers beside her plate.

  Ryan stiffened at the mention of her ex. Matt had brought over a new cell phone for her and he’d been burning it up with next texts. Every time Lulu did her donut dance for an incoming message, Ryan’s lips pressed into a hard line. She knew without a word that he resented the intrusions keenly.

  “Matthews says they’ve been going through Valenti’s apartment and his office at MIT. He’d just finished a big program in collaboration with a private company called DES. Ever heard of it?”

  Ryan shook his head.

  “The police are combing through his computer, but they don’t know anything more.” Sara took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “He was a pretty anal sort, Matthew says. Neat to the point of obsession. Everything was super organized, from his computer to his sock drawer. The man actually alphabetized the soup cans in his cupboard. Anthony Valenti balanced his checkbook to the penny and there was nothing unusual in his account.”

  “I wonder if he had a second laptop or a cell phone stashed somewhere else,” Ryan said. “If Valenti was involved in something that got him killed, stands to reason it was something he wouldn’t want his department head at MIT to stumble onto.”

  “We could try to find out,” Sara said.

  Ryan scoffed. “I don’t think the police would appreciate us crossing the yellow tape at his place.”

  “No, but maybe he left something at work. You know, in a locker or with a co-worker or something,” Sara said as she swirled a mushroom around her plate with her fork.

  “Are you going to eat that or just paint your plate with it?” />
  “Sorry,” she said. “Bad habit. I tend to stop eating when I worry.”

  “Habits can be broken. Eat, Sara,” he said with concern. “Try some Tabasco sauce. That’ll get your attention. Besides, I can worry enough for both of us and still manage to eat.”

  To prove his point, he finished off the last of his toast and sent a coffee chaser after it.

  “Matthew always says people don’t tell the police everything,” Sara said, noting his frown at the mention of her ex’s name, but deciding she needed to press ahead with her thought anyway. “Stands to reason they may not give them everything either. Maybe if we went to MIT and told them…I don’t know…something that would get some answers or maybe a laptop or cell phone or journal if we’re lucky. It’s worth a try.”

  To show she was trying as well, she shoveled a bite of the omelet in her mouth and chewed. It was pretty good, fluffy and light and perfectly seasoned without Tabasco sauce, thank you very much.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Ryan said.

  “No, we’ll see what we can do.”

  “I don’t know if I can protect you anywhere else. If you stay here, you’re safe.”

  “Yes, but if I don’t get out once in a while, I won’t be sane for much longer. Besides, you’ve got your work at the hospital.” She shuddered at boarding the T again, but she’d make herself do it. “I could at least ride with you as far as MGH.”

  Ryan cleared his dishes and took them back inside to load them in the dishwasher. Sara followed. “I spoke to Dr. Hershner and asked him to redistribute my caseload. I’m taking a leave of absence until this is settled.”

  “That could be a long time.”

  “One of the nice things about having enough money in the bank is that I can buy back my time,” he said simply. “My time is yours.”

  Sara was awed by his willingness to put his life on hold for her. “Then you’ll help me?”

  “Short of tying you to your bed to keep you here which, believe me, has real appeal,” he said with a raised brow, “I guess I’ll have to go with you.”