Page 41 of Once a Killer

Neither of them spoke as they rode the elevator down, although she was dying to hear how his talk with Stu had gone. She managed to keep her mouth closed until they were outside the building, but as soon as they were ten feet from the door, she said, “What happened with Stu?”

Jameson grinned. “I can’t believe you waited this long to ask me about it.”

“I wouldn’t do it in the lab,” she said, scowling at him. “Not in front of everyone else.”

“My office is soundproof,” he said.

“Except for the bugs,” she shot back. “And soundproofing doesn’t stop someone who can read lips.”

He looped his arm through hers, and although it looked casual, he made sure he snugged her up against his body. The warmth of his skin burned through his clothes and hers, and she drew a shaky breath. Eased away from him.

“So tell me what happened.”

His tiny smile vanished. “Stu denied that he was depressed. Denied having any problems with his program. Said he’d just hit a snag and was working it out.”

“And you said…” She studied him as she waited for him to answer. Had he ever dealt with a depressed engineer in his lab before?

“I told him that I wasn’t judging him. Wasn’t worried about the pace of his work. That’s up to him, just as it is for everyone else in the lab, including me. But I told him I was concerned about the mess on his desk, the jumble of papers and wires and pieces of equipment that hadn’t been touched for a long time.

“He tried to tell me that was how he worked, but I told him that wasn’t true. He hadn’t had that kind of mess on his desk when he first started. Hadn’t had that mess for at least a year. It’s been recent and pretty sudden.”

He signed. “Stu’s in denial. But I did a little research before I talked to him, and apparently most depressed people deny it. Claim they’re fine. I asked him to give it some thought. Told him his health care would cover the cost of seeing a doctor and buying any medication he needed. I also asked him what he had to lose by talking to a doctor. When he couldn’t answer me, I told him to think about it and get back to me.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “The research I read said depression is a slippery slope, and people are ensnared by it before they realize they are. But Stu’s a smart guy. I think, once he mulls it over, he’ll realize he’s in trouble. I hope he goes for help, but I can’t force him to do it.”

She set her hand on his arm and his muscles tensed beneath her fingers. “Thank you for doing that. It was the right thing to do, and I hope Stu pays attention. Gets the help he needs.”

“Me, too.” He slid his arm out of her hand and twined his pinkie with hers. “Thanks for pointing it out. If he does get help, you’re the one he should thank.”

She stared at their joined fingers, wishing she could press their palms together and enjoy the connection to Jameson. But she eased her hand away from his. “I hope he gets some help, too,” she said.

They’d reached the car, and she waited for Jameson to unlock it. Then she opened the driver’s side door and began her sweep. Less than five minutes later, she said, “We’re clear. Let’s get out of here.”

As he settled in the passenger seat, he said, “You think our buddy in the black SUV will go after us today?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Not sure. He may feel as if he’s got nothing to lose since we saw him last night. Or he may be hanging back and planning something new.” She flashed him a quick smile as she started the SUV. “Keep your eyes open on the way home.”

She returned to Jameson’s apartment via a different route, one she’d mapped out this afternoon. It was a combination of main arteries and side streets, which she’d figured would be difficult for a pursuer to figure out.

They were on a side street about six blocks from the apartment when a flash of movement from a cross-street alerted her. A black SUV accelerated toward them with a roar, heading straight for Jameson’s side of the car.

Chapter 15

“Brace!” Bree yelled as she accelerated.

“It’s okay,” he said, watching the black SUV barrel toward them. “My car’s armored. He’s not going to hurt us.”

“Not trusting that armor,” she said as she pressed the gas pedal. The Monster leaped forward, but the black SUV was still heading straight for Jameson’s door.

At the very last moment, Bree wrenched the wheel to the side and the car skidded toward the curb, bumped over it and finally stopped.

The attacker accelerated, but missed their SUV and crashed into a streetlight. The impact sounded like an explosion., and the light post wobbled from the hit. The attacking SUV bucked once as it shuddered to a stop.

The lamppost slowly tilted toward the house behind it, finally crashing to the ground. The top of the post struck one of the bungalow’s windows and the glass shattered, raining small glittering pieces onto the ground.

“You okay?” Bree asked, glancing at him.

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