weapon was nowhere to be found.
“Whoever attacked me must have picked it up.”
Cade swallowed that information. Not good. Not good at all. “Whoever’s doing this is armed.”
Chapter Four
Laurel quickly dressed and packed her small suitcase. “I let them get my weapon. What a rookie mistake,” she said to Cade.
“You were blinded by Mace.”
Cade’s words didn’t make Laurel feel any better. She shook her head. “First thing the FBI teaches you—hang on to your weapon no matter what.”
“You’re right. It’s not good that your attacker has your gun. Do you have a backup?”
She thought about the little Smith & Wesson in her suitcase and nodded. “I’ve got to report my weapon missing, though.” She didn’t want to think about what her boss, Mitch Decker, would say. He was kind and understanding—to a point. But he expected a lot of his agents—as much as he did of himself. Laurel hated to disappoint him.
Cade touched her arm. “Come on, we’ve got to find you a place to sleep.”
Laurel shook off his touch. “I need to go through that mess. If there’s anything left, I need to find it. The only reason someone would do this is if they were afraid of what Misty’s pictures might show.” She headed toward the dining room. “At least he didn’t have time to find what he was looking for, or he wouldn’t have bothered to set the fire.”
“You need to see a doctor about your eyes and then get some sleep.”
She ignored him. The dining room was a charred, sodden mess. Her stomach sank to her toes. “Poor Misty. He tried to burn every photo she had.”
She picked up a partially burned snapshot, then another and another.
“I’ll have Shelton box them up,” Cade said. “He and Fred can go through them tomorrow.” He took the snapshots from her hand and laid them back on the table.
She picked them up again. “I don’t want anyone to see these. I’d rather the attacker think they all burned up.”
“Okay then, I’ll get my dad to do it.”
She looked up. “Your dad? Oh, Cade, I never asked about him. Misty told me he’d had a stroke. Is he okay?”
“He’s doing fine. He has a little trouble with his speech, but there’s nothing wrong with his mind or his body.”
Her eyes were starting to burn again. She covered them with her palms. “I’m so glad he’s okay. It was wonderful of you to come back to stay with him. With James’s death and then the stroke, he must have been so glad to have you.” Misty had told her at the time that Cade had just finished his training at Quantico. He’d given up his FBI job to come home and help his father.
Cade nodded. “Yeah. Come on. You need to see a doctor.”
“I told you, this will be better after I get some sleep. If you want to do something for me, check Misty’s medicine cabinet. See if she has some saline eyewash and a bottle of witch hazel.”
He frowned. “Witch hazel?”
“Misty hasn’t changed a thing inthis house since her parents moved to Florida. I’d bet money her mother kept witch hazel in her bathroom cabinet.”
While Cade went to check the bathroom, Laurel closed her eyes and went over the timeline of her attack. But try her best, she couldn’t put herself into the mind of the perpetrator. This time she was the victim and that was all she could think about—how helpless she’d felt against the Mace and the blanket.
The attacker had slipped into the house while she was dealing with the car alarm. He must have dumped the photos and lit the fire in record time, because she couldn’t have been outside more than four or five minutes, and the fire was already raging when she came out of the bathroom.
“Here you go. You were right.”
Laurel opened her eyes to a tiny slit and saw the plastic bottle of witch hazel in Cade’s hand.
“Of course, who knows how old it is.”
“I don’t care,” she said.
“Let’s go. I just talked to Mr. Holder. He owns a bed-and-breakfast near my
“Whoever attacked me must have picked it up.”
Cade swallowed that information. Not good. Not good at all. “Whoever’s doing this is armed.”
Chapter Four
Laurel quickly dressed and packed her small suitcase. “I let them get my weapon. What a rookie mistake,” she said to Cade.
“You were blinded by Mace.”
Cade’s words didn’t make Laurel feel any better. She shook her head. “First thing the FBI teaches you—hang on to your weapon no matter what.”
“You’re right. It’s not good that your attacker has your gun. Do you have a backup?”
She thought about the little Smith & Wesson in her suitcase and nodded. “I’ve got to report my weapon missing, though.” She didn’t want to think about what her boss, Mitch Decker, would say. He was kind and understanding—to a point. But he expected a lot of his agents—as much as he did of himself. Laurel hated to disappoint him.
Cade touched her arm. “Come on, we’ve got to find you a place to sleep.”
Laurel shook off his touch. “I need to go through that mess. If there’s anything left, I need to find it. The only reason someone would do this is if they were afraid of what Misty’s pictures might show.” She headed toward the dining room. “At least he didn’t have time to find what he was looking for, or he wouldn’t have bothered to set the fire.”
“You need to see a doctor about your eyes and then get some sleep.”
She ignored him. The dining room was a charred, sodden mess. Her stomach sank to her toes. “Poor Misty. He tried to burn every photo she had.”
She picked up a partially burned snapshot, then another and another.
“I’ll have Shelton box them up,” Cade said. “He and Fred can go through them tomorrow.” He took the snapshots from her hand and laid them back on the table.
She picked them up again. “I don’t want anyone to see these. I’d rather the attacker think they all burned up.”
“Okay then, I’ll get my dad to do it.”
She looked up. “Your dad? Oh, Cade, I never asked about him. Misty told me he’d had a stroke. Is he okay?”
“He’s doing fine. He has a little trouble with his speech, but there’s nothing wrong with his mind or his body.”
Her eyes were starting to burn again. She covered them with her palms. “I’m so glad he’s okay. It was wonderful of you to come back to stay with him. With James’s death and then the stroke, he must have been so glad to have you.” Misty had told her at the time that Cade had just finished his training at Quantico. He’d given up his FBI job to come home and help his father.
Cade nodded. “Yeah. Come on. You need to see a doctor.”
“I told you, this will be better after I get some sleep. If you want to do something for me, check Misty’s medicine cabinet. See if she has some saline eyewash and a bottle of witch hazel.”
He frowned. “Witch hazel?”
“Misty hasn’t changed a thing inthis house since her parents moved to Florida. I’d bet money her mother kept witch hazel in her bathroom cabinet.”
While Cade went to check the bathroom, Laurel closed her eyes and went over the timeline of her attack. But try her best, she couldn’t put herself into the mind of the perpetrator. This time she was the victim and that was all she could think about—how helpless she’d felt against the Mace and the blanket.
The attacker had slipped into the house while she was dealing with the car alarm. He must have dumped the photos and lit the fire in record time, because she couldn’t have been outside more than four or five minutes, and the fire was already raging when she came out of the bathroom.
“Here you go. You were right.”
Laurel opened her eyes to a tiny slit and saw the plastic bottle of witch hazel in Cade’s hand.
“Of course, who knows how old it is.”
“I don’t care,” she said.
“Let’s go. I just talked to Mr. Holder. He owns a bed-and-breakfast near my
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