Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,24

optimistic thought—but she had a sinking feeling it was a very real possibility.

Meaning that for the foreseeable future, she’d be looking over her shoulder, trying to anticipate his next move . . . and watching for danger in every shadow.

6

BRENT REFILLED HIS CUP, set the pot back on the warmer, and took a sip of the strong brew as he retraced his steps to the conference room.

It was lucky he’d decided to stop by the studio and see Eve in person rather than provide a case update by phone. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been on hand to witness the latest bomb being dropped.

The providential timing also helped mitigate his guilt over what, until the final minute of her show, had been an unnecessary trip. He didn’t require a face-to-face with Eve to bring her up to speed. A phone call would have sufficed, given how little news he had to offer.

But the simple truth was he’d wanted a face-to-face. Hard as he’d tried to keep the red-haired radio personality from infiltrating his thoughts over the past five days, she’d popped into his mind too often to count.

Which explained why he’d shown up at the station at seven-forty-five even though his meeting a few blocks away wasn’t until eleven.

Not his smartest decision if he wanted to avoid the complications relationships entailed—but now he had a professional excuse to spend a few minutes in her company.

He paused outside the conference room, resettled his jacket on his shoulders with a shrug, and entered, shutting the door behind him.

“Sure you don’t want a warm-up?” He motioned toward her half-empty mug.

“No, thanks.”

He took the chair beside her. “I wanted to brief you on where we are with the case.”

“Does that mean there’ve been new developments?”

“Nothing specific.” He set his cup to the side and angled toward her, resting one elbow on the table. “The lab didn’t come up with any leads from the bomb package or the note. We ran basic background on the Monday callers Ryan identified as regulars once we isolated their cell number, but no red flags popped up.”

“I didn’t think they would. What about the social media comments and letters Meg pulled?”

“I spent several hours going through those yesterday, looking for patterns, flagging the ones that came across as threatening.”

“You must have ended up with quite a stack.”

“I did. However . . . I couldn’t detect any pattern in the threats—and most weren’t specific. A few of them wished you ill but didn’t indicate they personally intended to cause any harm.”

“Where does that leave us?” Faint furrows creased her brow.

No place good.

But he wasn’t ready to admit defeat.

“Until this morning, I’d have said we were in a waiting mode to see if the person who left the package took any further action now that you’ve made it clear you weren’t intimidated by the fake bomb. Today’s call answered that question.”

“In other words, this game isn’t over.”

“It doesn’t appear to be.”

“And we’re no closer to an answer than we were on Friday.” The corners of her mouth drooped.

“We don’t have an ID, no—but the language today’s caller used suggests we’re dealing with someone well-educated. ‘The moral high ground you advocate’ and ‘inconsistent with the image you present’ isn’t the typical speech pattern of the average person on the street.”

The twin grooves on her forehead deepened. “That’s almost scarier. Someone who’s smart and savvy is a more formidable foe.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“That’s why you should keep watching your back.”

“You think he’ll try again if this doesn’t work?”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s another attempt to silence you.”

She swallowed, watching him. “Yet he hasn’t done anything to physically harm me.”

Her comment was straightforward—but the underlying question was clear.

“Yet.”

She sucked in a breath. “So you think that may be coming.”

“I don’t know. It depends on the strength of his feelings and how committed he is to whatever purpose is motivating him. Whether he would resort to actual physical violence is a huge question mark.”

“In that case, until this is resolved, I guess I should keep my pepper gel close at hand.” She offered him a shaky smile and picked up her coffee.

“You could also reconsider personal protection—or take a hiatus from your show.”

Her nostrils flared, and she lifted her chin. “I’m not spending a fortune on a bodyguard—and I’m not going to slink away and let this guy win. This is America. People have a right to express their opinions. What kind of message would it send if I let this