Page 71 of Nora
He followed her, stepping forward and into her space again.
“You’re not just a vet, are you?”
“You poisoned your dog,” she countered, the time for subterfuge gone. He’d said nothing, but the only reason for his odd and aggressive behavior was if he was the killer.
Angelo’s gaze darted to Cesare, still lying on the table, breathing but unresponsive. Regret flashed in Angelo’s eyes, but she didn’t allow herself time to consider it. He was distracted, and she used the opportunity.
With the thermometer in her hand, she raised her arm and brought it down toward Angelo’s face. She wasn’t fast enough, though, and he caught her movement, deflecting the blow with his forearm. The glass thermometer fell from her hand and shattered on the floor. He took another step forward, forcing her against the cabinet and reducing any leverage she had.
Setting her hands on the counter, she lifted up and kicked out with her feet. She connected with Angelo’s stomach, and he stumbled back. But as he did, he reached for her and caught one foot in his hand. Staggering back, he pulled her with him. Needing to free her foot before she tumbled to the ground, she pulled her captured leg toward her, then kicked out again.
Angelo’s grip didn’t let up and even distracted by trying to stay on his own feet, he managed to keep hold of her. Desperate to get out of the precarious position, she launched herself toward him. Dropping her leg, he raised his hands to stop her trajectory. But she had even more momentum than anticipated, and they both tumbled to the ground.
They hit the cold, industrial floor and Angelo spun them until he was on top of her. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than having her foot in a footlock. She reared up, but he was ready for her, and a solid headbutt sent her back to the floor. He missed her nose, but still the hit to her head shook her. In the second it took her to recover, a piece of cloth descended over her face. She jerked her head from side to side, hoping it would slide off. When that failed, she bucked her body to dislodge Angelo. But with her arms and body pinned, and now her vision impaired, neither the cloth nor the man shifted.
Her movements became more labored. Then, despite her best efforts, she found herself unable to move at all. She wanted to fight. She was trying to fight. But her body was succumbing to a deep and dark fatigue. It was then that she recognized a familiar scent. Something she hadn’t smelled in ages. Something that had been hidden by the stench of Cesare’s illness when she’d been in Angelo’s room.
The cloying sweetness of chloroform.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Lucian lookedat his phone one more time. He’d texted Nora that the group was going to leave the market in thirty minutes and that he’d come to her when he returned. Only that was ten minutes ago, and she hadn’t answered.
The premonition he’d had earlier returned, and ice slithered down his spine. He tried calling her then. No answer. He called Ingrid and James, too, but neither answered. Panic started clawing at his chest.
“Are you okay?” Jean asked, approaching him with a cup of mulled wine. Lucian didn’t know how to explain it to Jean without letting the man know he was a murder suspect. Although Lucian’s gut was telling him it was Angelo he needed to worry about. Not the Frenchman standing in front of him carrying a bag filled with Christmas ornaments and a cup with a printed picture of Saint Nick on it.
“I…no, I’m not,” he said, opting for the truth. If he was wrong, he’d royally fuck up Nora’s investigation. But if he was right, she could be in danger, and every second counted. “I need to get back to the grounds, and I need everyone to come with me. Can you help gather the group while I call a couple of cars?”
Jean eyed him with a frown, then nodded. “Of course. Anything else I can do?”
Lucian shook his head and already had his finger on the rideshare app. “Just gather everyone and meet me at the entrance.”
Jean nodded again and walked off to start finding people. Given it was a Tuesday night, the crowd wasn’t too thick, and Lucian hoped it wouldn’t take Jean long. As he walked to the entrance, he ordered two cars, then dialed Ingrid and James again. Still no answer.
Pulling up Nora’s number, he tried one more time, even knowing that it likely wouldn’t do any good. Sure enough, after four rings, it went to voice mail. Staring at her name, he suddenly remembered he could get a lock on her location. Opening the app, he discovered she was at the clinic. Or at least her phone was.
Drumming his phone on his thigh, he considered one more option. Scrolling through his contacts, he pulled up the number for their army liaison. If nothing else, she might know who was on guard duty and could send someone to check on the clinic.
By the time the group wandered out of the market, Staff Sergeant Markley had promised to send someone out to the clinic. Lucian made sure she had his number before he hung up and faced the group.
“What’s going on?” Collin asked.
“It’s a long story that I’ll tell you all later. But for now, what you need to know is that Nora may be in danger. If she is, I’m going to need your help—and your dogs’—to find her.” Everyone straightened to attention, the cheery, relaxing evening activities already forgotten.
“Of course,” Willa said. “Just tell us what we need to do.”
The two rideshares pulled up, and Lucian gestured the group to pick a car and climb in. The remaining three stuck close to him. “I’ll tell you when we get in the car,” he said, before striding away toward Nora’s Land Cruiser.
As soon as they were on the road, Lucian called Violetta via Nora’s Bluetooth.
“Where’s Nora?” his cousin asked as she answered. “I texted her more than twenty minutes ago and haven’t heard back. I know she’s not asleep. Where is she, Lucian?”
Lucian grimaced. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find her.We’regoing to find her,” he said. There was no way he could search the entire training grounds without help from the participants and their dogs. “Do you have any way to track her other than her phone?”
“I…no, I don’t,” Violetta said. The frustration and fear in his cousin’s voice drove the knife of despair deeper. “I might be able to get Franklin to get a satellite in the area.”
Depending on whether one was nearby or not, it might be helpful. There was the slimmest chance he was overreacting, though, and Angelo wasn’t their killer and Nora was fine. He needed perspective, and Violetta would give it to him. “I think it’s Angelo,” he said.
