Trailing a Killer Page 2

  A soft whine drew her attention downward. Alcee looked up at her with a question in her dark eyes. Her dog was used to providing emotional support—easing loneliness, calming fears, even settling Erin down after one of her frequent nightmares. But this was different. Alcee likely sensed something was off but didn’t understand what.

  Erin placed a reassuring hand on the dog’s head, offering a smile to back it up. She was all right. At least, she would be, once she recovered. The problem was, the moment Cody’s eyes met hers, her universe had shifted, and it still hadn’t realigned. It probably wouldn’t for some time.

  When she straightened, Cody was watching her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Searching for survivors.” Of course, he already knew that. “I left California a year ago, settled in Fort Myers.”

  “Oh.”

  Just oh?

  Questions tumbled through her mind. What was he doing here? Had he come back permanently, like she had, or was he just visiting? And why Southwest Florida, where they’d both vacationed and fallen in love so many years ago?

  Before she could voice any of those thoughts, one of the paramedics slipped a blood pressure cuff over Cody’s arm. Erin moved to the end of the stretcher, well out of their way as they did their assessments. The reporters observed from a distance. They’d probably stay until they got a complete story, which wouldn’t be until Cody’s pops was free.

  She hoped it would be soon. Although Cody cooperated with the paramedics, worry lined his face, and his gaze kept shifting to the crane and the men working on the wreckage.

  She lightly touched the back of his hand. “They’ll get him out. They’re good at what they do.”

  He gave her a weak smile. “I’m just worried about him. He hasn’t said anything for several hours. I’m hoping he’s unconscious and not...” His eyes dipped to his lap and his fists clenched. “I won’t let these guys take me until I know Pops is all right.”

  “Your grandfather, is this the one I knew?” If she could keep him talking, it might help him keep his sanity while he waited.

  “Yeah.”

  Of course it would be. All he had was his maternal grandparents. His dad’s parents had been as absent in his life as his dad had been. His mom ran a close third.

  He tilted his head toward Alcee. “I take it the dog is yours.”

  “She is.” The sides of Erin’s mouth lifted. It was an involuntary reaction every time she thought of her sweet German shepherd. “Cody, meet Alcee.”

  He grinned down at the dog. “I’m pleased to meet you, Alcee, especially since you saved my life.” Cody’s focus bounced back up to Erin, and his smile faded. “I’d fallen asleep, or maybe passed out, then heard a dog barking somewhere above me.”

  “That was Alcee.” Erin patted the dog’s back, then pressed the furry body against her leg in a one-armed hug. Almost an hour had passed, but the love and pride she’d felt when Alcee alerted hadn’t lessened one iota. “The authorities called us out to see if anyone was trapped.”

  She resisted the temptation to add even though everyone was supposed to evacuate. The best thing Cody could have done for his grandfather was gotten him to safety. If anything happened to the older man because of Cody’s carelessness, he’d carry that burden the rest of his life. She wouldn’t wish that on anybody. She knew about regrets.

  Cody shook his head. “For a while, I didn’t think either of us was going to make it. With those gas tanks blowing, I was afraid the whole place was going to catch fire.”

  “Gas tanks?” Deputy Drummond stepped closer, brow creased. “There aren’t any gas tanks. The heating and appliances are electric.”

  Cody’s face mirrored Drummond’s look of confusion. “But there were explosions, about five or six of them close together. Then groans and creaks and finally the pop of splitting wood. The floor tilted, and bits of plaster rained down. Next, the building collapsed.”

  The deputy’s lips pressed together in a frown. He unclipped his radio from his shirt and called Dispatch. “We need an investigator from the Bureau of Fire, Arson and Explosives. One of the victims reported hearing explosions just before the house came down.”

  Erin shifted her gaze to the home next door. A couple of shutters were gone and a piece of fascia was dangling from the front porch. The roof had taken a hit, too, with patches a shade or two darker where shingles were missing. The home on the other side was in the same condition.

  The contrast between those houses and the one where she was standing was startling. Until a few minutes ago, it hadn’t made sense.

  But maybe there was a reason only one home out of hundreds had been destroyed. Maybe Mother Nature wasn’t to blame. Or maybe she’d had some help.

  But why? Had someone set out to simply demolish the house?

  Or had they been after the people inside?

  * * *

  Cody drifted on the edge of consciousness. Something nagged at him, but trying to analyze what it was required too much effort. Where was he? He wasn’t at home. The sounds and scents around him were foreign. But he didn’t have the will to decipher those, either.

  Awareness advanced, and with it, pain. Everything hurt. The worst of it was confined to his torso. And his head. Yeah, definitely his head.

  His chest, too. No, his heart, as if someone had squeezed, shredded, then stomped on it. Pops was gone. It couldn’t be true. But the grief pressing down on him said it was. Cody opened his eyes with a groan.

  A nurse stood with his back to him, facing the rolling bedside table. He spun and met Cody’s gaze for the briefest moment before stepping toward the back wall.

  The man had brought lunch. A plate sat in the middle of a tray, a plastic cover hiding whatever was beneath. A packet holding a napkin and silverware lay to the side, along with a beverage. The lights were off, the natural light struggling in through the narrow window offering the only illumination in the room. On such a gray, dreary day, even that was minimal. But the shadows were fitting. Anything else would seem out of place, disrespectful to the memory of the man who had raised him.

  Sometime this evening, Erin would return. She’d promised to check on him when she finished her day. At the thought, his spirits lifted just a little. She was the only person in the entire state who understood what Pops had meant to him.

  Cody craned his neck backward to check out his visitor. Latex gloves covered his hands, but he wasn’t wearing a nurse’s uniform. With pants in a nondescript blue-gray color and a button-up shirt in a tiny plaid pattern, he was probably maintenance. His beard was neatly trimmed, and wavy blond hair flowed from beneath a baseball cap, almost touching his shoulders. Was a ball cap approved hospital working attire? More likely in maintenance than nursing.

  The man fiddled with something on the wall, then hurried away, hitting the switch on his way out. The room brightened. Maybe someone had reported a problem with the lighting. The guy they’d sent wasn’t very personable. But Cody wasn’t in a talkative mood.

  Pops had made it as far as the operating room, then died in surgery. Ruptured spleen. He’d spent four years in a Vietnamese POW camp, followed by dangerous military missions in places he couldn’t even talk about because the US was supposedly never there. And a hurricane took him out.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway, growing closer. Between the solid, rhythmic footfalls was another sound he tried to place, the more rapid click of something against the vinyl tile.

  Erin stepped into the room holding a leash. Alcee walked next to her, toenails making little scrapes against the floor. Cody’s heart rolled over and his chest clenched. He really needed a hug. He squelched the irrational thought as quickly as it had come.

  Erin cast a glance toward the doorway. “Who just left your room?”

  “Hospital maintenance. I guess I had some lighting issues. Why?”

  “Alcee growled when he
passed.”

  “Maybe he reminds her of someone she doesn’t like.”

  “Maybe.”

  She stopped next to his bed, and the dog burrowed her nose under his hand. He obviously wasn’t on the people-she-didn’t-like list.

  He scratched her head and neck. She still wore her vest, its block lettering clearly labeling her a service dog. “So the Dynamic Duo is finished with all its rescue missions?”

  “Yeah. We did a couple of searches farther north, where the storm made landfall, but both buildings were empty. We just came from there.”

  She looked the same as she had that morning—khaki pants and the blue Peace River K-9 Search and Rescue T-shirt, her hair woven into a thick braid that went two-thirds of the way down her back. It had been long when he’d known her before, too. Now it was several shades darker than her natural medium shade of brown, and she’d added a deep auburn-colored tint. It looked good on her. Actually, everything about her looked good.

  She pulled up a chair and commanded Alcee to lie down. The dog complied immediately. After her performance this morning, he didn’t expect any different.

  Erin gave him a tentative smile. “How are you doing?”

  He pressed the button to raise the back of his bed. The pain through his torso stole his breath. Though he tried not to show it, her wince said she noticed.

  “I’m okay, all things considered.” He released the button and drew in a shallow breath. “Three broken ribs, several bruised ones and a doozy of a headache.”

  “You have a concussion?”

  “Probably. They did a brain scan.”

  “Find anything?”

  He grinned. “I do have one.”

  She returned his smile. “A healthy one?”

  “There’s a little swelling. I got knocked half-silly with a joist from the second floor, then hit my head on the coffee table on the way down.”

  She winced. “Ow. Double whammy.”

  “I’m pretty sure the broken ribs are from that same joist. After clunking me in the head, it landed on my side and kept me pinned until you guys arrived.”

  “What are they doing about the head injury?”

  “Keeping an eye on me. At this point they don’t think I’ll need surgery.”

  “Good. And your grandfather?”

  Her presence had chased away some of his grief. Now it pounced on him with a fresh vengeance. “He didn’t make it. Ruptured spleen.”

  She cupped her hand over his and squeezed. “I’m sorry.” The sadness in her eyes underscored the heaviness in her tone.

  The teenage Erin had been all about fun and didn’t have a serious bone in her body. At the time, she’d been just what he’d needed. With a dad who’d deserted him before he started kindergarten and a mom whose popping in and out of his life had done more harm than good, that carefree abandon had drawn him to her like metal shavings to a magnet. Of course, that same carefree abandon was the trait that had kept her from continuing their relationship beyond that one blissful summer.

  But the way she was looking at him, her hand warm over his, the intervening years must have changed her. She’d matured. There was a seriousness that seemed to now be an intrinsic part of her personality, as if she’d learned the hard way that life wasn’t all fun and games.

  “It’s my fault he’s gone.” He swallowed hard under the pressure of the guilt bearing down on him.

  She squeezed his hand. “Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty. Don’t beat yourself up. People who haven’t been through a hurricane don’t realize how deadly they can be.”

  “I knew. I’ve lived here in Cape Coral for the past eight years.” He’d gotten sick of the Chicago cold and left Gram and Pops for the warmer climate.

  He’d had a reason for choosing the Charlotte Harbor area. He’d met Erin in nearby Punta Gorda after his high school graduation when their grandparents stayed in the same RV park. Upon arriving eight years ago, he’d searched for her on social media and even checked parks in the area to see if her grandparents had come back. They hadn’t. So he’d closed the door on that season of his life.

  Erin had said if it was meant to be, their paths would cross again. They had now, and he was still reeling. He’d thought of little else since the moment he’d looked up and seen her standing there with her dog. At one time it would have been a dream come true, but eight years and one ex-wife later, those doors had closed. Erin wasn’t the only one whose life experiences had changed her.

  He reined in his thoughts. “What I didn’t count on was Pops’s stubbornness. He was supposed to be waiting out the storm at a friend’s house thirty miles inland. I didn’t find out he’d decided to stay in his apartment until we were already catching the outer bands. I went there, planning to bring him home with me.”

  “I take it that didn’t work.”

  “Not at all. The more I prodded him, the more he dug in his heels. You might remember Pops had a stubborn streak the size of the Mississippi River.”

  She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I do. But I also remember how much he loved you and your grandmother.”

  “He did.” Cody hadn’t always known it growing up. Pops had been stern and gruff through those years, a strong disciplinarian. Whether that sternness was innate or due to his experiences in the military, Cody wasn’t sure. But with his own anger and rebelliousness, he’d needed a lot of tough love, and Pops had provided it, something Cody hadn’t appreciated until he was almost grown.

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t about to leave him alone. So I stayed.” He heaved a sigh, inducing a wince. “I’m the reason Pops was here. When Gram died last year, he took it hard. I couldn’t stand the thought of him up there by himself. He finally gave in and moved two months ago. If I’d left him in Chicago, he’d still be alive.”

  Before Erin had a chance to respond, a sheriff’s detective walked into the room. Alcee rose, tail wagging, and Erin greeted him by name.

  He returned the greeting. “So this is your dog. I heard you two were on site first thing this morning. Good work. But it looks like someone other than Mother Nature might have been involved. We’ve already started an investigation. You’ll be working it, too.”

  Cody looked from the detective to Erin. What would search and rescue have to do with investigating the explosions he’d heard?

  The detective nodded in his direction. “I’m Detective Manuel Gonzales. I see you’ve already met Detective Jeffries.”

  “Detective?” Granted, he’d just suffered a head injury, but things weren’t adding up. “I thought you worked for Peace River something-or-other, with dogs.”

  She smiled. “I do. One dog, anyway. But that’s on a volunteer basis. My work with Lee County Sheriff’s Department is what pays the bills.”

  Detective Gonzales circled around to the other side of the bed. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

  “Sure.” He’d had better days, but nothing was keeping him from talking. Other than the pain that stabbed through his side with every breath.

  The detective pulled up a chair and removed a small, spiral-bound notepad from his pocket. “The Bureau of Fire, Arson and Explosives is still early in its investigation, but there’s evidence of charges being set.”

  “Charges?”

  “Explosives. C-4, dynamite.”

  Yeah, he knew what the man meant. He was just having a hard time accepting that what killed his grandfather might have been intentional.

  Erin was apparently having the same problem. “Why would someone bring down the building, especially with people inside?”

  Cody’s mind spun. “Maybe there wasn’t supposed to be anyone there. Pops’s car was in the shop, having some mechanical work done. His friend’s daughter was supposed to pick him up, and they were going to head to her dad’s house. Then I found out Pops had changed his mind, and I went right o
ver to get him. When I pulled up, the last resident was leaving. The place looked abandoned.”

  The detective frowned. “You saw someone leaving the building?”

  “I even talked to him. He asked if I was staying, and I told him I was there to pick up my grandfather. The guy wasn’t from around here. He had a heavy Northeast accent, like New York or Boston.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Stocky build. About two inches shorter than I am.”

  “And you are?”

  “Six foot even.”

  He paused to jot down the information. “What else?”

  “He was wearing a yellow rain slicker. Sunglasses, too, which was odd. We were getting hit by one of the outer bands, so it was raining pretty hard. The slicker’s hood was pulled up, leaving the guy’s features in shadow, but I could see he had some facial hair. Whether a full beard or a goatee, I couldn’t tell.”

  “Color?”

  “Light brown, dark blond.”

  “What kind of vehicle?”

  “None. He left on foot, headed toward Main.”

  “If you saw him again, do you think you could identify him?”

  “It’s doubtful.”

  After a couple more questions Cody couldn’t answer, the detective stood with instructions to call if he remembered anything else. He’d almost reached the door when Cody stopped him.

  “Wait. There were sandbags.”

  The detective turned. “Pardon me?”

  “When I got to my grandfather’s place, I noticed sandbags. But they didn’t seem to serve any purpose, just one or two resting against the pilings underneath the house, instead of stacked to form a barrier.” The structure had been constructed like a lot of them close to the water, built to accommodate a storm surge without flooding, as long as the surge wasn’t too bad. The arrangement of the sandbags had looked odd at the time. Now it seemed sinister.

  The detective made some more notes. “Maybe they weren’t there to protect the house. Maybe they were hiding what would destroy it.”