A shot rang out. A blast that thundered and had her gasping. Then she heard the squeal of tires as the shooter raced away.
Devlin’s body was on top of hers. The freezing snow was below her. He lunged up, swearing, as he looked after that fleeing vehicle. She sat up, moving much slower. She brushed off the snow that covered her clothing.
“Are you all right?” Devlin asked.
She was on her feet now. His hands slid over her body, checking for injuries. There weren’t any. The bullet had hit his vehicle, not them. Not this time.
A bomb. A bullet. What would come next?
“Jules!”
Ethan raced toward her. Fear had turned his normally tanned skin ashen.
Devlin moved his body in front of Julianna’s, his pose protective.
That was sweet and all…and she’d hired him to protect her but…I don’t want him taking a bullet for me. She didn’t want anyone doing that.
“I saw her on the security feed.” Ethan’s breath heaved out. “I thought that bullet was going to hit you.”
“Her?” Devlin said, voice dangerously soft.
“The shooter. I saw her blonde hair when she lowered the window.” His lips thinned. “And I got her tag number, not that we need it. I recognized her.”
“Who the hell was it?” Devlin demanded.
Ethan’s hands were clenched at his sides. “Heather Aslo, Jeremy Smith’s step-daughter.” His golden eyes glittered. “The woman who’s been so busy telling all the reporters that Julianna is a murderer.”
Chapter Eight
“There’s some mistake.” Heather Aslo smiled at Detective Faith Chestang. “I haven’t shot anyone. That’s absolutely crazy!” Then her gaze jumped to Devlin. “And who are you? Are you a cop, too?”
He smiled back at her. “Nice innocent act. But you know exactly who I am. I’m the man you had in your sights less than an hour ago.” He had to give the DC cops credit—or, at least, give credit to Faith. She’d moved fast and had taken Heather into custody even before Devlin and Julianna made it to the station.
Julianna was currently waiting in another interrogation room. Because Faith owed him a favor or two, she’d let him come inside for this little chat. He wondered how many lies Heather would tell before they got down to the truth.
Heather’s smile dimmed a bit. “I didn’t try to shoot you.”
Faith nodded. “Right. I know you didn’t.”
Heather looked relieved.
“I think,” Faith continued, seeming to really consider the matter, “that you were aiming for your step-mother, Julianna—”
“She’s not my step-mother!”
Oh, wow. Someone had anger issues. That would probably explain the bullet in the side of his ride.
“Officers are searching your home and your vehicle right now.” Faith’s voice was still as mild as you please. “They’ll find the gun, and they’ll match it to the bullet that we dug out of Devlin’s car.”
A furrow appeared between Heather’s brows. “Devlin?”
“That would be me,” he told her, giving his own slow, cold smile. “Devlin Shade. I’m Julianna’s bodyguard, and one of the witnesses to your little shooting attempt.”
Heather’s gaze slid to the door. “Do I need a lawyer?”
Why, yes, you do.
Faith slid a sealed envelope across the table. One of those big, cushioned envelopes.
“What’s that?” Heather wanted to know.
“A security video.” Faith was still calm, polite. “One of the nearby businesses had it.”
Ethan Barclay had been the one to give the video to Faith.
“That video,” Faith continued, “shows you, in your vehicle. It shows you, firing at Julianna.”
A tear slid down Heather’s cheek. “She’s the killer, not me.”
Devlin crossed his arms over his chest. “Julianna wasn’t the one shooting the gun.”
Heather leapt to her feet. “I wanted to scare her! She’s out, walking around town, hanging out with all kinds of men!”
All kinds?
“She killed him, and I wanted her to pay! I wanted her to be afraid! I wanted her to know—”
Heather broke off and slapped a hand over her face.
But Devlin wasn’t about to let that go. “Just what did you want Julianna to know?”
Her hand slowly fell. “That she wasn’t going to get away with what she’d done.”
Faith glanced at him. “I think we’ve found Julianna’s stalker.”
“She killed him!” Heather yelled. “He took care of me, always took care of me! And when he was going to leave her, she flipped out. She stabbed him. Avery told me! She told me what Julianna was really like. Julianna wants the world to think she’s good, but she’s a cold-blooded bitch! She—”
Devlin sighed. “She wasn’t the one shooting in a public street.”
Heather gulped. Her gaze darted to Faith.
“Tell me…” Faith asked. “Just how many times have you wanted to…scare…Julianna lately?”
“I-I…”
Faith tilted her head and asked, “When Julianna’s car exploded, were you just trying to scare her then? Did you want her to know…oh, yes, ‘that she wasn’t going to get away with what she’d done’ to your step-father?”
Heather backed up. But there was no place for her to go. Her shoulders hit the interrogation room wall. “I want a lawyer,” she said, her voice whisper-soft. “I’m not saying another word, not without a lawyer.”
Faith nodded. She collected her notes and the still-sealed envelope and made her way to the door. When Faith and Devlin exited, a uniformed cop took their place inside with Heather. Faith spared Devlin a hard look. “Having a VJS rep down here is starting to become a trend. Can’t you guys find a way to stay out of my station?”
He shrugged. “Maybe if people would stop gunning for our clients…”
Her lips twisted. Not a smile. Not a frown, either. But her eyes gleamed a bit.
“Can I take Julianna out of here?” Devlin wanted to know.
“With her stalker locked up, she should be safe now,” Faith said.
She should be. Would that mean that she didn’t need a bodyguard any longer? “You’re so sure that Heather was the one who set the bomb? I mean, how did she learn how to do something like that?”
“I’ve been doing some checking…” Now she did smile. “You know, as a detective, that’s what I do. It’s not like VJS solves all the crimes in the city.”
He knew exactly how smart Faith was. Chance had worked with her, years before, at Hawthorne Industries. The woman was sharp, fair, and one hell of a cop.
“Heather’s boyfriend has explosives training,” Faith said. “Courtesy of Uncle Sam. It doesn’t take a big leap to figure that he might have given her some how-to training.”
Or to figure that he could have even set the bomb for his girlfriend. Devlin’s lips thinned.
“I’ve already got officers bringing Hugh Bounty in,” Faith said quickly, “and, no, you don’t get to sit in on that interrogation.” Her head inclined toward the interrogation room on the right. Julianna’s room. “Take your client out the back. I heard that the reporters are already out front in a feeding frenzy. Maybe you can escape them. Maybe not.” Faith turned away.
“Do you think she did it?” Devlin asked.
Faith looked over her shoulder. “The woman just confessed, Dev. She said—”
“Julianna.” Not Heather. “You were the arresting officer on her case. You know criminals.” He stared into her eyes. “Do you think she did it?”
“Oh, please…tell me you aren’t falling for that woman.”
He shook his head.
“You’d better not be lying,” Faith muttered. “Look, all of the evidence pointed to her. Julianna was saying she couldn’t remember what happened the night before. That she blacked out, but the woman had no history of any blackouts. That shit was just far too convenient.”
“
He was hurting her.”
Faith’s lashes flickered. “I never said Jeremy Smith didn’t deserve killing. But it’s not my place to be someone’s executioner.”
“You think she did…” Dammit.
“We did blood work. Just checking, you know, to make sure she hadn’t been drugged. I mean, hell, maybe she’d been roofied. That would explain the blackout and memory lapse but…”
“But?” Did she really need to trail off like that? The woman was killing him.
“But the tests showed nothing.”
The tests didn’t always show positive results. Especially when too much time had elapsed. “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t drugged.”
“Rohypnol. GHB. Zolpidem. Temazepam.” Faith’s voice roughed with disgust. “These days, nearly anything can be slipped in a drink.”
“So she might have—”
“Her prints were on the knife. Blood spatter was on her.” Faith’s brows climbed. “So if you’re crawling into bed with that woman, I’m going to advise you to sleep with one eye open.” She paused. “You should also lock up your knives. Jeremy Smith was stabbed thirteen times. That sure tells me his killer had a whole lot of rage tapped inside of her.”