Locked, Loaded And Sealed. Carol Ericson
the car. Turning slightly in the driver’s seat, she asked, “If you know so much, how come you’re not up there right now talking to the Boston PD?”
“For the same reason I didn’t come and knock on your front door or give you a call. I’m trying to keep a low profile—for reasons I may not be able to tell you.”
“Because you killed him?”
“I didn’t kill him, and I won’t harm you.”
“How do I know that?”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?” He relaxed in the backseat, his hands on his knees in full view. “You already know I’m no threat to you. You sense it. In fact, you’re a street-savvy woman, aren’t you, Sophia Grant?”
She spun around to face him. “Who the hell are you? How do you know me? Dr. Fazal?”
He splayed his fingers in front of him. “I’m going to reach into my front pocket.”
Nodding, she curled her hands into fists as if ready to take him on.
He slipped his military ID from his pocket and held it in front of her face. “That’s me. I’m US military, and I’m on an assignment.”
She squinted at the laminated card and shifted her eyes to compare his face to the picture on the ID.
He asked, “Can we go somewhere and talk? You might feel more comfortable in a public place.”
“I might feel more comfortable if you sit in the front seat where I can see your hands.”
He held up his hands again, pinching his ID between his fingers. “They’re right here. I’d rather stay in the back for now. I don’t want to be seen in your car in case...”
“In case someone’s watching me, following me?” She started the car’s engine. “Why would someone be interested in me?”
Why wouldn’t they be? Austin dragged his gaze from her luscious lips and met her eyes. “Because you worked with Dr. Fazal.”
“It wasn’t suicide. He didn’t kill himself.” Her chin jutted forward as if daring him to disagree with her.
“He may have killed himself, but only because he had no choice. The men after him would’ve killed him anyway—and probably after hours or days of torture.”
She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand.
A twinge of guilt needled his belly. He’d gone too far. Just because she hadn’t screamed and hit the horn or fainted didn’t mean she had a hard shell impervious to pain.
“I’m sorry, and you’re right. Dr. Fazal was not suicidal, but I would like a better idea of what was going on with him. Can you help me out?”
“I knew it.” She smacked the steering wheel. “Those idiots were trying to tell me he killed himself when the office had obviously been searched.”
“Searched?” His pulse sped up. “Was anything taken?”
“Just his computer as far as I could tell. The cops had me look around, but I was too rattled to see straight.” She put the car in Reverse and backed out of the space. “I know a place in Cambridge, not too far from here—dark, not too crowded, but crowded enough so that we won’t be noticed.”
“Sounds good.” He ducked down and lay across the backseat. “I’m going to stay down. I want you to check your mirrors when you drive out of the parking structure to make sure you’re not being followed. Keep an eye out. Slow down and let cars pass you, take a few turns if you think someone’s tailing you.”
“You’re not making me feel any better.”
“You’ll be safe—with me.” The same couldn’t be said for Dr. Fazal, and Austin felt the failure of showing up too late to protect him gnaw at his gut.
The tires squealed and the car bounced as she pulled out of the parking structure. Austin’s forehead hit the back of the driver’s seat. “Did you see someone?”
“All clear so far. Why?”
“You stepped on that gas like you had the devil himself on your tail.”
“To get out of that parking structure, you gotta move or you’ll be waiting there all night.”
Apparently, every intersection she blew through had the same problem as the car sped up, lurched around corners and jerked to a stop every once in a while. If Fazal’s killers didn’t end him, Sophia’s driving would.
“No headlights behind you?”
“Not for any length of time. Don’t worry. I got this. I’m no stranger to losing a tail.”
“Should that concern me?”
“It should make you happy. We’re almost there.”
Rubbing his forehead, Austin sat up and peered out the window. They’d already crossed Longfellow Bridge and were speeding into Cambridge.
A few minutes later, the car crawled along a street lined with bars and restaurants as Sophia searched for a parking space.
He tapped on the window. “There’s a public lot with space.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not paying twenty-four bucks to park my car.”
“I’ll spring for the parking. We could be driving around here all night looking for a place.”
“Your call, but it’s a rip-off.” She made an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street and swung into the lot, buzzing down her window.
He pulled a crumpled twenty and a five from his pocket and handed them to her.
The attendant met the car. “That’s twenty-four dollars, please.”
She gave him the money, and then pinched the one dollar bill he gave her between two fingers and held it over her shoulder. “Here you go.”
When they got out of the car, Sophia crossed her arms, gripping her biceps and hunching her shoulders.
“You don’t have a jacket? It’s cold out here for just a long-sleeved shirt.”
“I had a sweater.” She slammed the car door and locked it. “It has Dr. Fazal’s blood all over it.”
“I’m sorry. Take my jacket.” He shrugged out of his blue peacoat and draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering for a few seconds.
She hugged the coat around her body and sniffed. “Thanks.”
They joined the Friday night crowd on the sidewalk—students, professors, young professionals, a few tourists. They could fit in with this bunch, even though Sophia still wore a dazed expression on her pale face.
She led him to one of the many bars, crowded but not jammed, a duo at one end singing a folk song.
“We can probably still get a booth, but we’ll have to order some bar food.”
“That’s okay.” He tipped his chin toward a booth in the back of the long room that three people had just left. “There’s one.”
He followed her as she wended her way through the tables scattered along the perimeter of the bar. Her black hair gleamed under the low lights, and he had a sudden urge to reach out and smooth his fingers along the silky strands. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans instead.
A waitress swooped in just as they reached the table. “I’ll clear this up for you.”
When the waitress finished clearing the glasses from the previous customers, Sophia slid onto the bench seat and he sat down across from her.
Hunching forward, she buried her chin in her hand and the small diamond on the side of her nose sparkled. “Tell me who you are and what the hell is going on.”
“My