Harlequin Intrigue January 2021 - Box Set 1 of 2 Read online

  Selena returned with a middle-aged man wearing a logoed polo shirt and khaki pants, and a woman in a gray sweater dress. “Frank Thomas, Bailey White, this is Special Agent Calletti.”

  Aria nodded in greeting. “Nice to meet you both. Agent Lopez has probably already told you we’re here to follow up on the bombing at your office. Would you like to sit while we talk?”

  The Realtors moved silently to a pair of desks beyond Susan’s, catching their coworker’s eyes as they passed.

  Frank’s fingers curled at his sides. “Tell me you have a lead on the maniac who did this.”

  “We’re working on it.” Aria scanned each face carefully, waiting for signs someone knew more than they’d want to announce in a group. The sting of cinnamon air freshener intensified as the trailer’s heater kicked on, blowing loudly over them. “Our team is here to pursue the matter full-time until the culprit is apprehended.”

  Selena moved to Aria’s side. “Any idea who’d do something like this?”

  The trio of employees shook their heads.

  Selena waited before speaking again. A practice Aria used often. When no one blurted anything under the pressure of silence, she continued. “Anyone have a problem with your company, the office manager or Realtor who was caught in the blast?”

  Susan frowned. “Maybe Fritz. He didn’t come to mind right away, because he hasn’t been here in months, but he wasn’t happy when he left.” She cast her gaze to her fellow real-estate workers.

  “Maybe,” Frank mumbled. “I don’t know. Was he smart enough to do something like this? Isn’t building bombs hard?”

  Selena’s gaze flicked briefly to Aria.

  Aria’s instincts went on alert. Fritz wasn’t a common name, and it had come up earlier in the team meeting. Not a coincidence.

  Selena lifted her chin. “Tell me about Fritz.”

  Susan straightened her posture, apparently accepting the role of spokesperson. “Fritz O’Lear was an agent here, briefly. We hired him in a pinch and regretted it almost immediately. He interviewed well, if a little flat on personality. But it takes all kinds to sell homes. Some of the fussier buyers don’t like Realtors with too much show and pizzazz—they complain we’re just trying to sell them something.”

  Selena’s eyebrows quirked slightly. “Aren’t you? You’re trying to sell houses.”

  “Sure, but that’s not all we do.” Susan bristled. “We’re matchmakers on the front end, trying to find exactly what each customer wants for a price they can afford. On the back end we’re investigators. Number crunchers. And liaisons. We work with area businesses and homeowners to prep and stage their homes for a quick sale while estimating fair market values and jumping through hoops for buyers. Fritz was good at the research and numbers.”

  “But?” Selena prompted when Susan didn’t go on.

  Frank leaned across his desk, hands folded. “No one liked him. People didn’t want to work with him, and instead of asking for one of us to handle their search or sell, they’d just go with another realty firm. He was terrible for business.”

  Aria moved in Frank’s direction, seeing the weak link among the three. “You didn’t like him.”

  Frank shrugged. His chin jutted. “No. Not particularly. If he disagreed with you, he’d get insulting. And he couldn’t take a joke, would always respond in a nasty way. Had a real chip on his shoulder. Would carry a grudge. It was clear he was that way around our clients, too, from feedback we got. So we told him maybe he’d be more comfortable at another firm, maybe a bigger one. You know, where he could do a lot of office and online stuff and not interact with the public as much.”

  “You think Fritz is capable of blowing up buildings?” she asked. “Assuming he could figure it out?” She narrowed her eyes, throwing back his earlier accusation that bomb-building was hard, and perhaps Fritz was stupid. “Is he capable of murder?”

  “Maybe,” Frank said, doing his best to seem indifferent when his posture and the flush of his skin betrayed him. “He was cussing everyone when he left. Throwing blame around like it was someone else’s fault he couldn’t sell homes.”

  “He was mad because you guys taunted him,” Bailey said, suddenly finding her voice. Her cheeks pinkened and her gaze jerked to Aria. “Frank and Gary made fun of Fritz for his lack of sales. Even when Fritz had a good week, it was never enough. Never close to the number Gary sold, and they never let him forget it.”

  Frank gaped, then scowled. “You think this is my fault? I teased some guy a little, and his response is a killing spree?”

  Bailey backed down, and Aria resisted the urge to dump Frank from his chair.

  “Gary and our office manager were lost in the bombing,” Susan said, gently rubbing her forehead.

  Aria turned, thankful for a place to redirect her attention.

  Selena’s eyes flashed at the platinum blonde. “Gary was a Realtor who taunted Fritz, and I’m guessing the office manager is the one he faced off with when he turned in his notice?”

  Susan nodded.

  “Got a picture of Fritz?” Selena asked. “An old ad or mailer or something?”

  Susan pursed her lips. “I’m afraid not. We handle our own promotions, and the company’s print directory and materials were damaged in the explosion. But his photo was online with his listings. He’s been gone a few months, but the internet is forever, right?”

  Aria’s thumbs were in action as Susan spoke, already digging up images of Fritz O’Lear outside homes with the Ramsey Realty sign. A clean-cut, fox-faced man in his thirties looked back at the camera, inauthentic smile in place. His light brown hair was laced with gray, and his small brown eyes were narrowly set against a long, broad nose. “This him?” she asked, turning the screen to face Susan, then sweeping it slowly in the direction of Bailey and Frank.

  “Yes.” The trio agreed.

  Selena left her business card with Susan.

  Aria gave one of her cards to Frank and one to Bailey. “Please keep this information to yourself. It’s early in the case, and we don’t want to tip off a potential bomber. Also, if you see Fritz O’Lear, do not approach. Call us. We’re hoping to talk with him. Maybe rule him out.”

  Back in the cold, the agents moved quickly to the SUV. Selena’s gaze swept to the rear window, where Blanca normally awaited her return.

  Both of them knew of Max and Axel’s assignment to locate O’Lear. That effort would have to intensify. But they had another location to visit.

  “Burger Mania?” Aria asked, thankful for the lead and hoping for more good luck at stop number two.

  “Burger Mania,” Selena agreed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Max pulled Rihanna’s notes from the glove box as Axel piloted the SUV into traffic. “We’re two for two,” he said, feeling more defeated than he liked this early in the game.

  Of the families they’d visited so far, both had lost a loved one to the Burger Mania blast. Both families were wrecked, as expected, their conversations soaked in tears, anger and frustration. But no one had any idea who might’ve done such a thing. None of them seemed to remember a Fritz O’Lear or someone who looked like him.

  “Where to next?” Axel asked, motoring toward the nearest main road.

  “Sherman Oaks Parkway.” Max tapped the address into the dashboard GPS, then settled back in his seat. “We’re meeting with Jordyn Knightly’s family. If they don’t have anything to offer, we’ll be out of leads.”

  Axel glanced at the GPS, then took the next turn. “What do we know about Jordyn?”

  “Twenty-three, blond hair, brown eyes.” Max flipped the notes around in his hands, reading the limited details. “She worked the night shift at Burger Mania and attended classes at the community college during the day. Looks like she was born and raised in the area. Has immediate and extended family here in Grand Rapids. She shared an apartment with her best
friend, Kia.”

  “Do we have Kia’s address?” Axel asked.

  “Yeah. It’s with the details Opaline put together on Jordyn. We can try there next.” At least that added one more thread of hope for the day. If Jordyn’s family didn’t have anything new to offer, maybe the young woman had confided something to her roommate that would help.

  Axel slipped the SUV into Park several minutes later, beside a driveway with multiple cars.

  The cottage-style home was covered in gray shake and lined in clean white trim.

  Max unfastened his seat belt. “Well, we can eliminate the possibility that the attacks were based on socioeconomic reasons.” The first victim’s parents had both been physicians, and the second victim’s family had lived in a housing project. This was a solid middle-class, blue-collar neighborhood.

  “Agreed,” Axel said.

  Their phones buzzed with incoming texts. A message from Aria with a photograph of Fritz O’Lear in his Ramsey Realty jacket.

  Max surveyed the photo. Allie hadn’t recalled the hair or eye color of the man she’d seen outside Burger Mania, but it was hard to reconcile the description she’d given with the image before him. Maybe the unidentified man had been a witness after all.

  “Looks like Aria and Selena are making more progress than we are,” Axel said. “If we don’t break this streak, we’re going back empty-handed.”

  Max smiled. “Then we’d better get to work.”

  The agents met on the sidewalk and made their way up a snow-lined walkway to the small front porch. A cherry-red wreath hung on a cheery blue door.

  “Maybe the third interview is the charm,” Axel suggested, then began to knock.

  A puffy-faced woman in rectangular glasses and a messy ponytail answered. “Yes?”

  Max made the introductions, and the woman invited them inside.

  A small collection of adults covered the couch and love seat beyond the door. They’d clearly overheard the exchange so far and had fallen silent in response.

  “I’m Jocelyn,” the puffy-faced woman said, closing the door behind them. “Jordyn was my beautiful little girl.” A powerful sob racked her small frame as she spoke, then doubled her over at the couch’s edge.

  A man stood to collect her, guiding her to his vacated seat. “Sit, honey. Rest.”

  A younger woman with curly red hair rose from the love seat and pointed to the woman still seated there. “We’re Sage and Grace. Jordyn’s cousins. That’s our mom, Alicia,” she said, pointing to a woman who’d entered the room when Jocelyn had begun to cry, then froze at the sight of the agents. “On the couch is our dad, David, our brother Jim, and Kia, Jordyn’s best friend. That’s our uncle Brad, Jordyn’s dad.” She pointed to the man helping Jocelyn get settled.

  Max nodded in greeting, thankful to see so many of Jordyn’s loved ones in one place, especially Kia, the roommate. “We’re very sorry for your loss.” He let the words sit between them a moment, hoping to convey the fact he truly meant them. Max knew loss intimately. He’d lost more than his share to senseless acts of violence in the service. All were far too young, and each absence had left a mark on his heart. “We won’t take up too much of your time. We just wanted to introduce ourselves and let you know our team is here now, working in conjunction with the local police department to identify and apprehend the person responsible for these bombings. We won’t leave until we have justice for you and the others who’ve lost loved ones.” He gave them another minute to process, then added, “We’re very good at what we do.”

  Axel shifted, folding his hands in front of him. “Your local police haven’t stopped following up, but it’s easy for a force to spread themselves too thin in times like these. Our team, on the other hand, will devote one hundred percent of our time to this investigation, until we’ve seen it through. You have our complete attention.”

  Jocelyn wept loudly again, folding forward in her seat on the couch. Her husband crouched before her, stroking her face and whispering words of encouragement.

  “We’re visiting everyone on the Burger Mania staff,” Max said. “Looking for ideas about who could’ve done this. We’ll follow every lead and suggestion to its end, and we never disclose how we came upon a name in conjunction to a crime. Is there anyone you can think of who might’ve had a problem with one of the victims? Maybe another employee or customer? An ex-spouse or significant other. Anything Jordyn might’ve told you that seemed extreme or worrisome?”

  The group members looked at one another, eager and curious. Then their heads began to shake. No.

  “Have you ever heard the name Fritz O’Lear?” Max asked. It was a long shot, but the only one they had at the moment, and worth tossing out there. Though the name hadn’t registered to anyone at the last two homes he and Axel had visited.

  Kia frowned, as if trying to recall, but didn’t comment.

  Jocelyn sat taller, her sobs quieted. “Is that the man who did this?” Her voice grew firm and angry. “Is he the monster who took my baby girl?”

  Axel unfolded his hands and lifted his palms hip-high, then relaxed them at his sides as she calmed. “He worked at the realty office that was also bombed. We don’t know if he’s a victim, too. We’re hoping to find links between the two targeted businesses. Did any of you have recent interactions with someone from Ramsey Realty? Did Jordyn?”

  Max brought up the photo of O’Lear on his phone. “This is Fritz O’Lear.” He passed the device to the women on the love seat and watched as they took turns looking, then passing it on.

  When the phone reached Kia, her curious expression turned to confusion. “This is Fritz O’Lear?” She fished a phone from her purse and set Max’s aside. A moment later, she turned her screen to him. “Could this be the same guy?”

  Axel moved in closer as Kia handed Max both phones.

  The agents compared a covertly captured image of a man leaving Burger Mania. His hair was longer than in the realty photo, and he had a bit of beard growth, but it was him, and in this more recent photo, Fritz was exactly as Allie had described. Right down to the black hip-length jacket with visible wool at the collar and large rectangular pockets on the chest.

  “Jordyn sent me that,” Kia said. “He came in a few times and was really nice at first. Typical for an older guy. Jordyn’s beautiful, smart, kind. Was,” she corrected herself, eyes filling with tears.

  “Take your time,” Max encouraged.

  Jocelyn passed a box of tissues in Kia’s direction.

  The room was silent around them, all eyes on the girl with information everyone wanted.

  Kia pressed a tissue to her nose and settled her breaths. “She took his order once, and they talked while the kitchen prepped whatever it was that he paid for. He kept coming back after that, but instead of sitting at the tables or stepping aside, he lingered, always wanting her time and attention. She started taking her breaks to avoid him, but he’d stick around, drinking coffee and waiting until she had to go back to the register. Then he’d approach her. Eventually, he asked her out. It was like he couldn’t see she was ghosting him. She turned him down politely, but it didn’t stop him. He kept coming in, hanging around, watching her. Then he asked her out again a couple weeks ago. She’d had it with all the nights of feeling uncomfortable because of him. She said it was like she was being punished for ever having that first conversation.”

  “She said no again?” Max guessed.

  Kia nodded. “Yeah. He really creeped her out.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jocelyn said. She scooted to the edge of the couch, tears dried and her husband’s handkerchief clutched in her hands. “I remember this. A couple weeks ago, Jordyn told me about an older man who asked her out at work. I told her to report him for making her uncomfortable, and to tell him to shove off!” Jocelyn turned wide eyes on the agents. “He was pushy the second time. Didn’t want to take no for an answer.
He told her, ‘C’mon, give me a chance.’” Jocelyn covered her mouth, tears spilling freely again. “She was firm, like I told her. She told him to pay attention. Her answer was no, and it wouldn’t change. When he kept going, she asked if his brain was on the fritz. Like his name.”

  Her husband pulled her back, his expression crumbling now. Strength gone.

  Max thanked them, told them they’d been helpful, but warned them that this Fritz guy might just be a witness and not involved. He didn’t want any of them going for vigilante justice, after all.

  Max passed his business card to Kia. Then he and Axel let themselves out.

  They’d identified a prime suspect. Now they just had to find him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Allie added a second swipe of mascara to her lashes and drove the lip-gloss wand around her red lips once more. She’d changed into her most flattering pair of jeans and chosen a fitted red turtleneck to accent the work she’d been doing at the gym. Max had caught her off guard at the mall, but not tonight. Tonight, she was determined to give him the same thrill he’d given her at the sight of him. Even after all these months apart, one look at Max sent her back to the moments of their early days together. Butterflies in the stomach. Heat in her chest and cheeks. And damn it all, he knew her secret. He was trained to see the subtle changes that broke like fireworks against her fair, freckled skin.

  Her heart hammered at the memory of his nearness. His strong, authoritative voice. His broad, sexy chest. Muscular arms and hands that knew exactly what she liked. She’d imagined kissing his lips a thousand times since he’d walked away from her at the mall. Heard his sweet whispers against her ear. Felt the warmth of his embrace. As if he was still hers.