Wounded at Home

By Mitzi Pool Bridges

Financial analyst Sky Chapman must free her sister of a murder charge. Ex-SEAL Dirk Browning uses his skills as a private investigator and a military dog trainer to search for a way to keep Sky safe while they look for the killer and the missing millions the killer thinks she has. Neither Sky nor Dirk want the attraction that springs between them. She, because she refuses to fall into the philandering-husband trap both her mother and sister dove into. He, because his mother abandoned him to the Brownings at the age of ten and he never saw her again. The killer has given Sky a timeline. Find the money and turn it over, or she and her sister die. Will Sky survive long enough to explore the feelings she has for Dirk? Will Dirk be there for her? Or will the thief and killer make the questions moot?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Apr 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781509207305

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Chapter One

Skylar Chapman’s arms prickled with goose bumps when she walked into the cool air at County where prisoners were held until trial. She didn’t know if it was the difference between the steamy air on Houston’s sidewalks and here, or the fact that her sister was in jail for the murder of her husband. She couldn’t keep her mind from swirling with the bizarre situation Dory had found herself in.

Following directions, Sky found the door where two deputies stood guard. After showing her pass, she stepped into the room. The smell of old sweat mixed with fear and anger, sent her stomach contents up to her throat. Swallowing twice, she took a few uncertain steps. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Her gaze swept the room. Her sister didn’t belong in this place. Dory’s home was richly furnished and immaculately clean. She could never live with this. The dull gray walls, the tiled floors that looked clean enough but were faded to an indistinguishable color from thousands of footsteps, would drive her crazy. Small, metal tables and chairs held a few inmates and their families. Cameras were everywhere. In the distance metal clanged against metal, loud voices cursed in anger; a TV in the corner was at a low volume. The smell itself, including the underlying scent of strong cleaning products, undoubtedly would send Dory into one of her fits of rage. To be in here under lock and key must be driving her insane.

When Sky caught sight of her sister, she muffled a gasp of surprise. Dory didn’t look anything like the sister Sky knew. Her perfectly groomed looks were gone, replaced by a slumping, straggly blonde stranger who sat at one end of an old, scarred table, her eyes glazed.

She and her sister weren’t close, never had been. They were too different. One introverted, the other an extrovert. Which was only the beginning; one had talent in many of the arts, the other none. Their mother had died when Sky, at the age of eighteen, was barely out of high school. Dory was two years older and was already in college. Sky knew even before then that they were destined to lead totally separate and different lives. For that reason, they rarely saw one another.

A hysterical phone call from a sister she hadn’t heard from in months had brought Sky here.

When Dory saw her she sat up a little straighter, looking at Sky as if she could make all of this right.

Something welled up in Sky. Something nasty. She pushed it down and went to sit across from her sister. Hi.

Dory came to her feet. The guard headed toward them and she sat back down. I knew you’d come.

You sounded desperate. And looked it. Besides her disheveled appearance, her eyes, besides being red-rimmed and swollen, had a haunted look Sky had never seen before.

I didn’t kill Martin. Tears fell down Dory’s bare face. Something else Sky hadn’t seen since her sister turned thirteen and discovered makeup.

Sky reached across the table to take her hand. The guard shook his head sternly and she pulled back. I know you didn’t.

Dory looked at Sky, her eyes beseeching.

A deep well of sorrow swept over her. Sky was more than sorry Dory was in this predicament, sorry someone else wasn’t here to help her sister, and sorry she’d been talked into coming.

Everyone thinks I did, even my high-priced lawyer. Why do you believe me? Hands to her face, Dory burst into tears.

No doubt Dory hadn’t changed since childhood. This could go on and on. She was the drama queen to end all drama queens. Everything, from the time Sky could remember, had to be Dory’s way or there were tantrums. Their parents gave in. Always.

Sky raised her voice to be heard over the sobs. Dory, we’re family, remember. You may be many things, but you’re no killer. Spoiled, yes. Pampered, yes. Self-centered, yes. Murderer? No. And just that quickly, Sky realized it was true, and didn’t regret coming.

Dory looked at her gratefully. As a kid she had been impossibly popular. And, of course, she was already beautiful. She excelled in dance and music. She was a virtual virtuoso on the piano, her talent captivating everyone in her orbit. Being a perfect blonde with gorgeous blue eyes didn’t hurt. Everyone adored her. But where were her rich friends now? Where were her tennis buddies—her country club lunch group?

Sky looked around at the dejected prisoners facing visitors of all ages and sizes. Dory had no one other than a sister she barely talked to a few times a year.

Have you spoken to your lawyer?

Dory heaved a deep sob. Jacob the Jerk? He said the evidence against me was damning and is urging me to plead out. I can’t do that. I won’t. If you don’t help me, I don’t know what I’ll do.

What can I do your attorney can’t?

Dory leaned across the table, her eyes bright with anticipation. For the first time since Sky arrived, she saw the self-confident Dory. I’ve had nothing but time to think about this since they threw me in here. There are two people who have a bigger motive than I to want Martin dead and buried. I need someone who will follow through and find what the cops can’t or won’t, so I can get the hell out of here. She sat back, a satisfied look on her face and crossed her arms. It was as if she were a kid again. She wanted something, so automatically it would happen.

Sky was afraid that time had passed. Dory…I’m not a cop. I wouldn’t know where to begin.

Her sister leaned closer, drilled her with those teary blue eyes. I’ve been denied bail. I don’t trust my attorney. If you can’t come up with the person who killed Martin, I’ll die in here. Her voice hitched and tears fell again.

Sky wanted to run screaming from this room full of desperation and hopelessness. It took a concerted effort to hold herself in her seat. You’re being unreasonable, Dory. There are people out there who can help you, but I’m not one of them. She paused. Why don’t you hire a PI? Or insist your attorney does?

You don’t understand, Sky. I trust you. Not a stranger.

Why? This was a turn she’d never expected. She should have. But their parents weren’t here to work their magic and make the ugly disappear. Her sister’s rich friends had abandoned her. Who was left? Sky let out a disgusted sigh. Once again her sister was demanding and this time it was Sky who was expected to give Dory what she wanted. Then again, she couldn’t let her sister be convicted of a crime she didn’t commit. If her attorney couldn’t help her, who was left?

Sky knew the answer. Her insides cringed, and gorge rose once more to her throat. Swallowing past it, she took a few deep breaths. She had to do something for Dory, but there was no way she could act like a cop and do what she wanted.

Because you’re my sister, dammit. The money went from Steel Financial to the bank where you work. God knows where it went from there. You’re smart. You can follow the money. I know you can.

"Are you saying you want me to find the missing money?" Though her voice was a few octaves higher than normal, Dory didn’t seem to notice.

Exactly. When you do, you’ll find the person who killed Martin.

Sky thought her head was going to blow off. You make it sound so simple. When it wasn’t. Ten million dollars had gone missing the day Martin Oakes was killed. So far, it hadn’t been found. Not that the bank and the FBI weren’t looking. They were. The bank had bent over backwards to find out where the transfer went after it left their computers. Everyone they called in—including teams of auditors, and lawyers—had failed miserably. Computer experts and the best PI firm money could buy hadn’t found a dime of the stolen millions.

The feds had questioned Dory for hours. Were they blind? Stupid? What? Houston’s Police Department had her sister incarcerated for murder, but the Feds were asking questions of everyone who worked at the bank, none as intensely as Skylar Chapman, who was a financial advisor at Union Bank.

Sky had questioned the employees as well. Not like the Feds, but in her own way. She had her own questions she wanted answered. Questions she’d pose over a cup of coffee in the break room; a where were you when it happened slipped into the conversation. Like the Feds, she’d come up with no answers.

Who had a motive to kill Martin? As if Dory’s answer would make sense. Her sister wasn’t known for heavy thinking.

Bur Dory was more than ready to offer her ideas. For starters, there’s that bitch, Steel’s administrative assistant, Cherise Prince. She and Martin had an affair a year ago. I found out and he broke it off. At least he told me he did. She was furious.

Furious enough to kill him?

"You know that old saying, hell hath no fury…I believe it. She hated him and she hates me."

So she killed him and framed you.

That’s right. All we have to do is prove it.

Sky released a ragged breath. To her sister, everything was simple. And there was no we involved. Who else?

None other than Quentin Steel himself. He has to know Martin’s passwords. Cherise may be a tramp, but she’s smart. If she wanted the password she’d find it. One of them is guilty. I know it.

Quentin owned Steel Financial Services and had been Martin’s boss. Of course he could have done it, but the authorities had checked him out thoroughly. His alibi was airtight. His credentials made him look like a saint in a business suit. The city’s charities would cry real tears if his largess came to a halt.

All I have to do is find the money. Right? Sky’s stomach muscles drew tighter at the thought.

Dory leaned close again. You can do it, Sky. You’re the smart one in the family.

Really? Since when? Sky was the one who stood, forgotten and ignored, in the shadow of her talented and beautiful sister. She stood to leave. I’ll see you soon.

You’re going to help me, aren’t you? You have to. I have no one else.

She looked at her sister again—at the desperation in her beautiful eyes, the frightened look on her face, and relented. Prepared to accept the burden her sister had put on her shoulders, Sky let out a sigh of resignation. I’ll do what I can.

When Sky walked out of the jail, the heat and humidity of a typical spring day in Houston hit her. She dreaded the coming summer. Friday evening traffic hardly moved. Impatient drivers honked horns impatiently. A driver of a black SUV gave the finger to the guy in a dark blue VW next to him. Sky hurried to her car. Why, she didn’t know, since she wasn’t anxious to join the fray. Once behind the wheel with the A/C on, she thought of her sister and the dilemma she was in. She knew her sister was innocent, but the authorities were not looking at anyone else. Dory was right. They thought they had the killer behind bars. However, they were trying to find the missing ten million dollars.

Screw them all!

If need be, she’d find the killer herself, and she’d find the money. Then her sister could resume her pampered life and her friends would once again flock to her side. And I won’t hear from her again until she wants something else.

Sky ignored the inner voice and the more-than-truthful prediction, but it made her angry. Once more she was catering to her spoiled sister’s needs. God knows what she’d have to do, where she’d have to go, and what kind of trouble she’d get into before this was over. If it ever ended.

The trip home seemed to take forever, but when Sky parked at her apartment complex, anger at the entire situation propelled her out the car. She was about to do something so out of character it made her head spin. How she would even start on the treacherous road her sister had put her on, she didn’t know.

After a hot shower, she’d think about it. Right now, she wanted to kick off her heels, drink a glass of wine, and try to forget her sister was in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. Maybe then her nerves would settle down and she could think of a way to at least begin to help her sister.

Opening the door with her passkey, she remembered why she’d decided to live here. The Galleria area was safe and it wasn’t too far from the bank. The rent wasn’t cheap, but there was security and she felt protected. The overcast sky threatened rain as she walked into the foyer. The familiar scent of fresh flowers from the display on the small entry table, the odor of lemon floor cleaner, and a wave from the porter as he mopped up a spill in the hall didn’t reduce her rapid pulse rate or relax the quivering muscles in her stomach.

How could she do this? She was a financial consultant at the bank and had no expertise in snooping and gathering evidence. She shied away from trouble. She certainly didn’t go looking for it.

Frustration warred with exhaustion. That hot shower was looking better and better. In reality, nothing had made her feel better since the night she was notified her sister had been arrested. Her heels clicked on the polished tile floor as she walked down the long hallway to her apartment. There had to be a way to find the person who killed her brother-in-law. Regardless of the rift between them, her sister would not pay for a crime committed by someone else, even if she was justified in killing the bastard. Sky would have to check out Dory’s two suspects. How to begin, she didn’t know.

Keys in hand, Sky reached to unlock the door. Stopped. The door was slightly ajar.

Her heartbeat accelerated. Had she been robbed?

She had nothing of value. Her furniture wasn’t the cheapest and it certainly wasn’t worth stealing. Neither was her TV. Since she didn’t watch it much, she hadn’t bothered to buy the latest and best. No one in his right mind would want an old nineteen-inch that looked as if it came from the Stone Age.

Scrabbling in her purse, she pushed aside her laptop, her billfold, and grabbed her cell phone. With the toe of her high-heeled pump, she pushed the door open; fingers poised to dial 911, and listened closely for the slightest sound. Silence.

Maybe whoever had been here took one look and left. If she were a thief, it’s what she would have done. Her apartment would be a total waste of time for anyone looking for something valuable.

She poked her head inside, pulled it back. Fast. She was in the wrong apartment. Had to be.

Carefully, she looked again. Then stepped back to look at the number on the door. One-Three-Zero.

This couldn’t be her apartment. To prove it, she peeked around the door again. Her stuff lay broken and scattered like so much debris on the floor of her formerly neat and clean unit.

The hand holding her cell phone was trembling and wet with sweat. She had to do this. Her heartbeat at a dangerous level, she stepped inside and listened. Total silence. She stepped over what had been her favorite chair, but was now a half a dozen pieces of wood and torn fabric. Everywhere she looked was the same. Whoever did this hadn’t been content until everything was destroyed. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture left whole. She edged into the kitchen. The table and chairs were kindling. Pots and pans were thrown haphazardly around the room. Most were dented. The coffeepot was destroyed. Her utensils were mixed with the kindling and mess on the floor.

Mom’s china! If it was destroyed, she was going to commit murder herself. The dishes held memories of when they were a family, a broken family to be sure, with her dad off with another woman. Her mom had done her best to make up for his loss by serving Sunday dinner on her best china, a wedding gift from her own mother. It was Mom’s most treasured thing in the house.

Sky opened the cabinet. It wasn’t there. Panic whipped higher yet. She looked around, opened every cabinet door to find nothing in them. Everything had been scraped onto the floor and smashed. Had the china been stolen? Then she opened the dishwasher. There they were, the only things she had of her mother’s, cracked and broken into pieces. Tears clouded her vision. Blinking them away, she reached inside and pulled out a coffee cup that had escaped the intruder’s wrath. When tears threatened again, she slammed the dishwasher door shut and stuffed the cup into her bag.

The china had been the only thing the sisters quarreled over when Mom died. Dory declared they were hers because, at the age of twenty, she was the oldest. Sky admitted her sister was right, but she wanted the dishes because they brought back memories of their mom. Not great memories, but the Sunday dinners were special because her mom had tried.

Normally, Sky didn’t cry to get her way. That was Dory’s ploy, but that day she couldn’t hold them back. Maybe, for the first time in her life, Dory felt something for her little sister and acquiesced. Or maybe it was because over the years Dory had laughed at the old-fashioned china, telling everyone who would listen that the tiny pink roses with a thin rim of gold was out of style. Now it was destroyed.

Picking up the base of a lamp, Sky stalked over to her closed bedroom door. Be there, she begged. She’d make the thief wish he’d never been born.

Her heart pounding in her throat, she raised what was left of a lamp and yanked the door open. Silence—and more destruction. Why? Was this a random act or was someone looking for something? She didn’t have a single thing of value.

She toed aside ripped bedding, clothes in shreds, and every piece of costume jewelry she owned. All were torn and smashed into bits of nothing.

All of a sudden she felt weak in the knees. If she didn’t sit down, she was going to fall. Making her way to the bed wasn’t easy with so much stuff on the floor. The person who had done this had taken a knife and slit her mattress in dozens of places. She sat on it anyway, and let her gaze slide from one broken piece of her life to another.

The table she’d picked up at a flea market was nothing but splintered pieces of wood. A pair of earrings her first boyfriend had given her, crushed—her high school graduation ring had obviously been stomped on, the birthstone opal ring her mother gave her on her sixteenth birthday was cracked.

From where she sat she could see into the bathroom. She didn’t dare go in, as the floor was thick with a combination of body wash, powder, and the smell of her perfume. Her stomach rolled.

She had to get out of here.

Call the cops.

Not yet. She grabbed both rings and stuffed them in her bag before she stepped into her walk-in closet. Her clothes were ripped into shreds. Even the new dress she’d bought a few weeks ago for the party her sister had been planning to throw for her bastard husband’s birthday was nothing but a rag. Frantic, Sky pulled blouses, skirts and suit jackets from the floor. There had to be something that wasn’t destroyed. She was wrong. Dizzy now from both the smell and the realization that she had nothing except what she had on her back and in her bag, she made her way to the door.

Her eyes were so blurry she could scarcely see—her stomach so upset she thought she might throw up.

She reached for the doorknob. Stopped. What was that? Taped to the door was a note. Without thinking, she tore it off and read, where is it bitch? If I don’t find it, you’ll die.

Dear God. What did she have? Who was threatening to kill her? And what was it?

Throwing the note in her purse, she ran down the hall, passing the porter who was mopping the floor. She didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge his greeting. She ran until she reached her car.

With trembling hands, she found her keys and started the motor. She had to get out of here.

This invasion had