on the side.
“Seth and I were downtown and had lunch. We stopped and picked something up for you since you were holding the office down.”
Alex grinned, reached for the sack and sank back into his chair. “Thanks. I was about to go get something. Now I can eat at my desk.”
Brad nodded. “We thought you might not be in the mood to go out. You’ve had a tough morning.”
Alex sighed. “Yeah, it’s never easy seeing someone commit suicide.”
Brad and Seth exchanged glances. “Well, if you need to talk, buddy, we’re here for you.”
“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it, but I’m okay.”
Brad opened his mouth to say something but shook his head, walked to his desk and dropped down in his chair. Seth considered Alex for a moment before he ambled over to his desk. When his partners appeared engrossed in what they were doing, Alex relaxed in his chair and pulled the burger and fries from the bag. He picked up a French fry, dredged it in catsup and shoved it in his mouth.
The thought of the look on Mr. Mitchell’s face as he plummeted toward the river flashed in Alex’s mind, and he frowned. He tried to chew the French fry he’d just put in his mouth, but he might as well have been eating sawdust for all the taste he got out of the piece of potato. He swallowed the fry, picked up the remainder of his lunch and put it back in the bag for later. There was no point in forcing himself to eat when his stomach churned. Maybe he needed to stop by the drugstore on his way home this afternoon and get something for a queasy stomach.
The problem was he’d had this feeling for years. It recurred every time he saw Grace, and he’d never found any medicine that could cure what ailed him. All he had to do was keep his distance from her, and after a few days he’d feel better.
After a few minutes he pushed to his feet. “I’m going to the break room for a cup of coffee. Anybody want anything?”
Brad and Seth shook their heads, and he strode from the room. He’d only taken a few steps down the hall when he heard music drifting from the break room. He stopped, glanced down at his watch and grimaced. Just his luck. It was time for the WKIZ noon news. He hesitated at the door, unsure if he should enter or turn and walk back to his office. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, took a deep breath and walked inside.
Several officers sat on the couch that faced the television, and their gazes were locked on the picture that filled the screen. Grace sat behind the anchor desk and in her usual professional manner related the events of the morning as she looked into the camera.
He couldn’t move as she switched to the video the cameraman had filmed on the bridge. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaned up against the door frame and watched in fascination as she reported the lead-in story for the newscast. His throat tightened, and his heart thudded as he relived each terrifying moment. Perspiration dotted his forehead, and he reached up to wipe it away.
One of the officers glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway. “Hey, Crowne. That was some rescue you pulled off. I didn’t know you could move that fast.” The officers looked at each other and chuckled.
Alex pushed to his full height and managed a weak smile. “I just wish I could have saved Mitchell, but at least Grace Kincaid didn’t go over the side, too.”
He glanced back at the screen as the camera focused on Grace’s face again. Behind her he could see red poinsettias arranged on shelves. As he studied her sitting among the holiday decorations on the set, he was reminded of Christmas their senior year in college. He couldn’t wait for her to get back to Memphis from Philadelphia that year, but it hadn’t turned out to be the happy time he’d anticipated. Instead, it had ended with his heart broken. Every Christmas since then had held little interest for him.
After a moment he stepped into the room and dropped down in a chair. He sat through the rest of Grace’s newscast, but he didn’t leave when the program was over and the other officers had returned to their desks.
Suddenly he felt tired. Maybe the morning’s events were just catching up with him. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and drifted on the edge of sleep. The ringing of his phone jerked him awake, and he sat up straight. He had no idea how long he’d been in the break room.
He sat up and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Hello.”
“Alex, this is Grace. Are you all right? You sound groggy.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over them. “I’m alone in the break room, and I must have nodded off. The phone woke me. Why are you calling?”
She hesitated a moment. “I don’t know if it means anything or not, but I just had a strange phone call.”
He sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“Someone called and wouldn’t tell me who it was. He said he has something he wants me to see.”
“So you think he must have some information about Landon’s death?”
“I do, but as the conversation progressed, he became sinister.”
Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “Did he say he would call again?”
“No. He said he was going to hide whatever it is he has and he’ll send me a clue where it is. I thought you should know.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you called. Did he say anything else?”
She hesitated a moment. “He said I should be afraid of him.”
Alex exhaled and shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of that. Be careful, Grace. Don’t go to the parking lot alone when you leave work, and watch for anybody following you. Let me know if you hear from him again or if you receive anything from him.”
“I will. I’ll talk to you later.”
He disconnected the call and sighed. This was what he’d been afraid would happen. The calls were already beginning to come. Whether or not this one was legitimate remained to be seen. But no matter, Grace’s first thought had been to call him, and she’d probably do the same the next time something occurred that might affect the investigation.
The last thing he needed in his life was to spend time with Grace Kincaid, but it seemed that’s where he’d been headed ever since Timothy Mitchell decided to jump off the bridge. All he could do now was guard against renewing any kind of friendship with Grace. He was determined that wasn’t going to happen.
THREE
Grace pulled her car into her reserved parking spot at the television station and turned off the engine, but for some reason, she couldn’t make herself get out. She didn’t know if it was driving through the heavy morning traffic or her lack of sleep the night before that had left her feeling exhausted. She rubbed her hands over her eyes and tried to blot out the picture that had flashed in her mind during her sleepless night. Every time she’d closed her eyes, the scene on the bridge had popped into her mind. She saw herself grasping the bridge railing and staring down into Mr. Mitchell’s wild eyes.
Her wrist throbbed, and she massaged it. A shiver went up her spine. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t dispel the fear that flowed through
