Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,22
had been dropped in the waning moments of her program—she forced her lungs to keep inflating and deflating.
Never in a million years had she expected that unfortunate chapter in her life to see the light of day again. It was ancient history—and none of the parties involved would benefit by rehashing it.
So how had this caller found out about it? And was he the person who’d dropped the fake bomb at her house, as Brent had suggested? Was this a continuation of his campaign to silence her?
None of those questions were her immediate concern, however.
First, she had to tell her story to Doug and Brent—and hope they believed what she had to say.
Then she’d put all her efforts into damage control with her audience.
Brent entered the room first, set her mug on the table, and took the seat beside her. “You okay?” Warmth radiated from his dark brown eyes.
She wrapped her cold fingers around the ceramic, fighting a sudden disconcerting urge to lean into this man and draw strength from his steady presence.
But she wasn’t a leaner. Never had been, never would be. She could hold it together until she was alone.
After that, all bets were off.
“Eve?”
At his gentle prompt, she took a sip of the coffee and carefully set the mug on the table in front of her. “I’ll be fine. I just never expected to have to deal with this. Do you honestly think that call is related to the fake bomb?”
Doug came in on the tail end of her question and slid into the chair across from them. “I’d like to hear the answer to that question too.”
“I think it’s possible. The quality of the voice on the call caught my attention. I suspect the person was using voice-altering software. We can check your 800 carrier’s log for the number, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it came from a burner phone that’s already been disabled and pitched.”
“Does that mean we can’t even find out where it came from?” Eve picked up her coffee again, more to keep her hands busy than because she needed a caffeine boost.
“Not without a specific court order for that number—and since there was no overt threat, that would be difficult to obtain. But my gut tells me it’s related to the bomb incident.”
“If you’re right, that would indicate this guy means business—and may not be willing to quit until Eve does. Not the best news I’ve had today.” Doug rested an elbow on the table and massaged his temple. “So what’s the scoop on this caller’s story, Eve?”
She gripped her mug. Everything would be fine.
It had to be.
Just tell the truth and put the rest in God’s hands, Eve.
With that admonition echoing in her mind, she dived into the story. “Eight years ago, when I was twenty-four and launching my teaching career at a private high school, I met a man who was ten years older than me at a teacher workshop. He was one of the presenters. I ended up sitting at his table for lunch, and we hit it off. He called a few days later, invited me to dinner, and I accepted. For the record, he wasn’t wearing a ring.”
“But he was married?” Doug leaned forward.
“Yes—but I didn’t know that.”
“Didn’t you ask?”
“No. In those days, I thought the best of people. It never occurred to me anyone would openly cheat on a spouse—and I would never have pegged this guy as a cheater.”
“Why not?” Brent joined in the questioning.
“He came across as honest, clean-cut, well-educated, and straightforward. He had a responsible job in education and appeared to be committed to the welfare of students. The man radiated integrity. And it wasn’t as if he took me to sleazy bars or met me in dark, out-of-the-way places.”
“How did you find out the truth?” Brent was watching her with an intent, penetrating look she suspected had made more than a few criminals fold under questioning.
Yet empathy radiated from his pores—as if he was searching for the facts, but nevertheless believed in her.
She telegraphed a silent thank-you.
“From his wife, who stormed into a restaurant where we’d met for dinner and proceeded to shriek to everyone in the place that her husband was having an affair.”
Doug cringed. “Ouch.”
“Ouch is a vast understatement. I was mortified and hurt and angry and shocked and . . . you name the emotion, I was feeling it.”
“What did your friend do?” Brent leaned closer, almost as if he wanted to take her hand.