Page 59 of Her Only Hero

“Here.” He finished his slice and then ripped off the top of the cardboard box and pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket. “Let’s get a visual.” In the center, he drew a house and then added items as he spoke.

“There are several unconnected events—the house with a body, a suspect running away, your assault, your house break-in, the business card you found, the two phone calls, and the house fire. The most dominant areas of interest are the house and the murder. Why was a man murdered? And did Dr. Fulthorpe know him? Dr. Fulthorpe needs to be contacted, especially now that his estate has been damaged. We’ll need to see the fire marshal’s report on whether they rule the blaze as arson, and if it is, the motive will have to be determined.”

“Do we go back to talk to Dr. Crawford?” I said. “And see if Dr. Fulthorpe has returned to work yet?”

“We can try to speak with him. This has become a full-on criminal investigation. Dr. Fulthorpe will have some explaining to do and a lot of questions to answer. His absence isn’t helping his case, either.”

“Hmm,” escaped my lips as I remembered what Aram had said to me a while ago.

“What, June?”

“I thought that Aram, Dr. Hamid, had said Dr. Fulthorpe was a good guy.”

“Good guy in what regard?”

“Well liked. Respected.”

“He may well be. But often, you never really know people, until you see what their actions are.” Patrick put down the pen. “The three outliers in this case, which have to be proven to be related and relevant, are the guy that knocked you over, your house break-in, and the prank calls. If they’re not related, we have more than one open investigation. Meanwhile, it’s vital to be wary. If you are being sought after for whatever reason, it would be wise to keep you out of sight and inaccessible as much as possible. Is that all right? Are you okay with this?”

“I won’t lie. This is all unnerving.”

“June, I will do everything I can to keep you out of harm’s way.”

His eyes glistened. I believed him and trusted what he said. I wanted to forget everything for the rest of the night. All I longed to do was go upstairs to the cozy loft.

“Patrick. Can we head upstairs?”

“I’d like nothing more.” He scooped me out of the chair with no apparent effort. He made me believe I was featherlight even as he soared up the stairs, two at a time.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The moon hovered over the skylight, illuminating Patrick’s muscled back. The bed sheet draped over his waist, and he slept peacefully, unaware of how I secretly admired him. In silence, I reflected on his strength, intelligence, kindness, and how he made me feel. The natural intimacy between us remained unparalleled with any connection I’d ever had.

And then ugly thoughts barged in. Unwelcome images of the fire and bloody crime scene rattled around and refused to leave my mind. Anxiety about the possible impending danger gripped my insides. My heart rate increased on its own.

It was no use trying to get back to sleep. I shimmied off the bed and waited to see if Patrick stirred. He remained still. I grabbed my cell phone from the night table, then stepped barefoot down the stairs to the front room. I looked out of the window at the still, ashen grey yard, trees, and road. Not even a night critter scurried by.

I sat on the couch and checked my phone for emails. I tapped on the gallery app and played the video I had filmed around the fire scene. I watched the dark, pixelated footage again and again—neighborhood houses, sidewalks, trees, shrubs, flashing lights, emergency vehicles. At the end of the video, a black car drove slowly by. A car. I scrolled in reverse. It looked like a luxury-size car, and the driver was a single shadowy occupant. Funny how I hadn’t noticed it drive by at the time. I’d been so focused on the properties. Other than that, there was nothing to see. Patrick had been too kind to tell me my video recording would probably be a waste of time and effort. I hit delete.

I stood and peeked out the window one more time. A pair of headlights approached. I thought nothing of it until the car stopped at the end of the driveway. When the driver opened the door, my heart rate skyrocketed. A male figure got out, andI moved away from the window, pressing my spine against the wall. I stood frozen. A thump sounded at the front door, and I jumped. My pulse pounded in my ears, and for long seconds, I waited. A car door slammed, and I spied outside as the vehicle drove away.

On the porch sat a rolled-up newspaper.

“What are you doing?” Patrick said.

I leapt from the window. “I couldn’t sleep. The newspaper is here.”

“Thank you for letting me know that.”

“Patrick, I thought the newspaper guy was a robber. Am I losing it?”

“You’re not losing anything. What can I do to make you feel better? About all this?”

“You’re already doing everything.”

“Go on upstairs. I’ll check everything is secure down here.”

I went up to bed and realized I had left my phone on the couch. I retraced my steps down again. I checked for Patrick in the kitchen and front room, but I couldn’t find him. Then I looked out the window. Outside, he bent over and picked up the newspaper. I expected him to come back in, but he didn’t. Instead, he unrolled the newspaper and took out a slip of paper.

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