Never. This was for Gio’s sake.
Light still came through the staff-room windows and allowed her to see what she’d tried to breach before—the antiquated file cabinet. Except something was off. She squinted, tried to deny what she saw. Each and every drawer was open. Rushing to the cabinet, she couldn’t keep her groan from morphing into a cry as she saw all of the drawers had been emptied. If anything had ever been in there at all. Grasping the corners of the rusty metal cabinet, she bowed her head and for the first time since Gio’s funeral allowed herself to weep.
After a good cry, she’d be ready to make an even better plan. No one or nothing was going to keep her from justice for Gio.
* * *
Holden gave Bella Colton credit. The woman was as intrepid as any agent he’d ever met. As much as he wanted to discredit her motives due to her job description, he couldn’t. She wanted something in the school, most likely the staff room, and wasn’t going to let a mere attack get in her way.
He waited to see her disappear through the cargo entrance before he used his fob to enter the building. It’d show up on the security system as him, as the guard, and he’d explain it as having seen the cargo door being opened after hours. If Bella had a key code she might have some kind of legit reason for entering. But if she were entering the school again for a valid reason, why wouldn’t she use the front entrance? His internal radar wasn’t happy with what he’d witnessed. It was time for Bella Colton to answer some questions.
It took him a few minutes to get to the stage, as he had to move quietly. He drew his weapon as a precaution against the attacker returning, not to protect himself from Bella. She was an aggressive reporter but had no criminal record. Once again he thanked his lucky stars for his investigative team at the Bureau and the training he’d received. This case was growing more complicated by the second, as if the evil surrounding it was molten lava seeping into every crack and crevice of Mustang Valley.
An odd sound made him halt backstage, behind the curtain that allowed for undetected passage from stage left to stage right. The sound was from the staff room, he was certain. But he had to get closer, to make sure it was only Bella in there. As he crept along the cinderblock wall, the black curtain to his left, he heard his breathing, his heartbeat. But no more sound from offstage. Had Bella already left?
He cleared the curtain and saw the light pour out of the staff room a.k.a. stage dressing area. A few more steps and he’d put Bella’s journalistic snooping to a quick end.
But when he looked into the room, cleared left and right, it was empty. He stepped inside the open door and saw that the LEAs had done their job—swept for fingerprints, opened all drawers and file systems to rule out explosives, left everything as they’d had to.
The attacker had held an unconscious Bella near the old file cabinet, before he’d dragged her to the side exit and made his escape. Holden holstered his weapon and walked to the cabinet, the dusty behemoth’s four deep drawers wide open.
“Stay right where you are or I’ll spray!”
Female voice, to his rear, dead center. Voice—Bella Colton.
Crap.
Holding up his arms, he spoke. “You’re safe. I’m the security guard.”
“Don’t turn around or reach for your gun. I will take you down. You’re not in uniform.” She paused and he wondered if she was calling the police.
“This is Bella Colton. I want to speak to my bro—”
“Heck no!” He turned and faced her, ready to explain why he was here and find out why the hell she was. “You’re okay, I’m—”
Wet liquid heat hit his face, his eyes, his nostrils and then his mouth. And oh, by the love of heaven, it burned. As if microscopic shards of glass were cutting his face wide open.
Bella Colton had just pepper sprayed him. He, an FBI agent, had been bested by a reporter.
Again.
Chapter 5
Bella watched the security guard, in plain clothes, wince against the sting, while his hand reached into his back pocket. She kept her grip on the spray canister, ready to hit again.
“Hands in front.” But he didn’t pull out another weapon, and his pistol remained holstered. He held out what she thought was his wallet, until it flipped open, displaying a badge and credentials.
“Holden St. Clair, FBI.” His voice was remarkably steady for someone who’d just been hit with burning pepper-oil solution.
“Really.” She leaned forward and grabbed the ID holder from him. It looked real enough. “I’m going to verify this through my brother.” She called Spencer’s cell.
“Go ahead. Tell him you’re with me.”
“Bella, you there?” Spencer’s voice broadcast over her phone’s speakers, from the side table where she’d thrown it when she decided to use the pepper spray. No longer seeing Holden as a threat, she grabbed her phone and turned the speaker off.
Spencer sounded stressed. A twinge of guilt made her feel like the bossy sister he teased her about being.
“Do you know an FBI agent named Holden St. Clair?”