Читать книгу The Lawman's Nanny Op - Carla Cassidy - Страница 7

It was just after nine when the deputies Caleb had called in finished up what little they had been able to do. There had been no fingerprints around the window, although they’d found a black thread stuck on one of the shards of glass, a thread they assumed was from whatever the intruder had been wearing when he’d broken in.

Portia knew there was no way they’d be able to figure out who had smashed the window and crawled inside by a single thread of cotton.

As Caleb walked with the other men out of the day care, she looked around the room and wanted to weep. She’d worked so hard to make this a place of fun and love for the little ones who were in her care, and now it was all nothing but a big mess.

Melody had all the kids outside in the play area, but she needed to get them inside before the sun grew too hot and at the moment this was no place to bring children.

Caleb came back inside. “You have a broom?” he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. “Cleaning up a crime scene isn’t your job.”

He shrugged. “You’ve got a yard full of kids out there who are going to need to get inside pretty soon. Two sets of hands will make the cleanup go more quickly.”

“They aren’t coming back in here,” Portia exclaimed. “I’ll make arrangements for Melody to have them at her house until we figure out what’s going on.”

“You still need this mess cleaned up, now where’s the broom?”

As he began to sweep the floor Portia went outside to speak to Melody. All the children had arrived for the day and she gave Melody the keys to the minibus they used for field trips to transport the children to Melody’s house.

Melody assured her the children would be fine at her place for however long it was necessary and Portia knew she could trust her assistant with all the details.

By the time she returned to the garage, Caleb had finished sweeping up the floor. “You sure you can’t think of anyone who’s mad at you?” Caleb asked as he stopped pushing the broom and leaned on the handle.

She frowned and bent down to pick up the picture books that had been thrown off the toddler-size bookshelf. “I spent all day yesterday trying to figure out who might have hung those flyers, who might have such a big problem with me that they’d want to hurt me like that.”

She straightened and looked at Caleb. She’d spent most of her time since high school trying not to look at him, trying not to think about him, and most of the time she’d succeeded.

She’d finished college with a degree in early childhood development and had devoted herself to her business, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t had time to date.

“Joe Castle,” she said.

Caleb frowned. “What about him?”

“He’s the only one I can think of who might have an issue with me.”

“Why? What did you do to him?”

Portia felt the heat of a blush filling her cheeks. “It’s not what I did to him, it’s what I didn’t do with him.” She broke eye contact with Caleb to place the books on the shelf. “Joe and I have been seeing each other for the last month. You know, dinners out or an occasional movie, nothing serious. Last week at the end of one of our dates he tried to take things to the next level, but I told him I wasn’t interested. I told him I thought it best if we didn’t see each other anymore.”

“How did he take it?”

She met his gaze once again. “He was irritated, told me if I didn’t intend to get in a serious relationship then I shouldn’t have wasted his time.”

Caleb frowned, his expression inscrutable. “I’ve known Joe for a long time. I know he’s got a hot temper, but this definitely doesn’t feel like something he’d do.”

“I know, that’s why I hadn’t mentioned him until now, but he’s the only person I can think of who I’ve had any kind of issue with.”

“I’ll have a talk with him, see if he knows anything about this.” Caleb swept the last of the plastic trash into a pile and then grabbed the dustpan.

They worked for another few minutes, putting some of the things back where they belonged and not speaking. Tension gripped her and she told herself it was because of Caleb, because this was the first time in years that they’d spent any time together.

The old saying was that you never forgot your first love and Portia knew it was true. She’d never completely been able to distance herself from the love they’d shared in high school.

Despite the fact that he’d broken her heart years ago, she still remembered how it had felt to be held in his arms, how his mouth had plied hers with a heat she’d never known before or since.

“That’s good,” she finally said. “I’ll call a carpenter and see about getting the bathroom window replaced and things will almost be back to normal.”

“Except that you’re afraid.” Caleb stepped closer to her, so close she could see the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes, so close she could smell the dizzying, familiar scent of him.

His words gave the tense feeling inside her a name. Fear. She’d thought it was because she was close to Caleb, but since the moment she’d walked in here and seen the senseless destruction she’d been gripped by a simmering fear.

“This feels like such hatred,” she said. “It’s creepy to think that somebody could possess this much hatred directed toward me.”

He reached out and touched her chin, a familiar gesture that might have ushered in a million memories if she allowed it. “Maybe you’re taking this all too personally,” he said softly.

A disbelieving laugh escaped her. “It’s hard not to take this personally.”

He dropped his hand back to his side. “It could be kids, some teenagers with too much time on their hands looking for a little excitement. If that’s the case somebody will talk to somebody else and eventually I’ll hear about it.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said and for just a moment she wished he’d pull her into his arms and hold her, take away the chill that refused to go away.

And for just a minute she thought she saw in his eyes the desire to take her into his arms. It was there only a moment, a soft yearning that quickly disappeared and made her wonder if she’d only imagined it.

“I’ll have a talk with Joe and see where he was last night and if he had anything to do with this,” Caleb said, all business as he started to back toward the door. “And if you think of somebody else who might want to cause you trouble, call me.”

“I will, and thank you for all your help in cleaning up,” she said.

He nodded once and then walked out. As she watched him go she felt a small stab in her heart, a faint echo of the way she’d felt years ago when she’d watched him walk away that final time.

Crazy.

They’d had their chance at making it work and he’d blown it. He’d obviously moved on. She knew he’d been engaged a year ago to Laura Kincaid, a statuesque blonde who was two years younger than Portia and Caleb. The engagement had fallen apart and Portia had just assumed it had been Caleb who had called it off, who had probably cheated on her. After all, that was what he’d done to Portia—cheated on her and broken her heart and there was nothing to indicate to her that over the years he’d changed his ways.

Laura had left town soon after the broken engagement and Portia had heard through the grapevine that Caleb was once again playing the field.

Portia wasn’t sure now if her rapid heartbeat was because she was still just a little bit afraid or if it was because Caleb Grayson still had the capacity to touch her in a way no other man ever had.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. For the first time in years the day care was silent on a weekday. No childish laughter, no sloppy kisses, just a silence that pressed in on her as she finished trying to clear up the last of the mess. The carpenter arrived late in the afternoon to put in a new window.

Maybe it would be best to keep the kids at Melody’s for the next couple of days until they could figure out who was behind all this. She could take the time and give the walls a new coat of paint, she thought as she closed and locked the door.

She’d been wanting to put a fresh coat of paint on the walls for a while now, but had never found the time. There was no way she could have the children come back until she was certain there was no danger to them.

She hoped Caleb solved this issue quickly so she could get the day care back up and running, but in the meantime she’d use the time with the children absent to do some grunt work.

It was just after five when she went inside her house. She would sleep with one eye and her bedroom window open tonight to make sure she’d hear anyone who tried to break into the garage again. On second thought, she’d keep her windows closed and locked. Anything that was destroyed in the day care could be replaced, but she couldn’t be.

The kitchen smelled faintly of fresh oranges and the chicken salad she’d made early that morning for the children’s lunch. She tossed her keys on the table and then walked from the kitchen through the living room and into her bedroom.

What she wanted more than anything was a quick shower, her favorite robe and maybe a quart of chocolate ice cream for dinner. She positively didn’t want to think about break-ins or vicious flyers—or Caleb Grayson.

Minutes later as she stood beneath the warm spray of water she found thoughts of Caleb creeping into her mind. She wondered who he was dating at the moment.

He’d promised to love her forever, had promised she was the only one he wanted in his life, and then she’d gone out of town for her grandfather’s funeral and the rumors had begun, rumors of his betrayal.

She frowned and shut off the faucets, then reached for the fluffy towel that awaited her. Ancient pain, she thought. She wasn’t that naive young woman anymore, and she’d learned her lesson well where Caleb was concerned.

Once she was dry she pulled on her short, green silk nightgown and a matching robe. It was not quite seven when she settled on the sofa in front of the television with a tray holding a plate of chicken salad and a tall glass of iced tea.

She’d just finished eating and carried the tray back into the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She went to the front door and peered out, surprised to see Caleb standing on the porch.

Maybe he had news, she thought as she cracked open the door. “Caleb,” she said in greeting.

“Hi, Portia. Mind if I come in?”

She unfastened the chain and opened the door to allow him entry. As he walked into her living room, he looked around with interest.

She followed his gaze, wondering what he thought of her bright color scheme, the oversize throw pillows on the gleaming wooden floors and the bookshelf jammed full of books, knickknacks and pictures of kids who had passed through her care.

“Nice,” he said as his gaze went first around the room, then slid down the length of her body, making her unsure what exactly he thought was nice. He sank down in the overstuffed chair next to the sofa.

Self-consciously she belted her robe more tightly around her waist and sat on the edge of the sofa.

“What’s up? Please tell me you’ve solved the crime and the vandal is behind bars.”

“Not even close,” he replied with obvious reluctance. “I just wanted to let you know that I talked to Joe this afternoon. He insists he had nothing to do with the flyers or what happened here last night. I also talked to several high school kids to see if they knew anything about it, but nobody seemed to have any information.”

“You didn’t have to make a trip here for that. You could have called me,” she replied. She wasn’t at all sure she liked him being here in her personal space. She didn’t want to smell his cologne when he was gone, didn’t want a mental picture of him sprawled in her chair as if he belonged here.

“You were upset when I left here earlier. I wanted to stop by to make sure you were okay.” His gaze was too warm as it lingered on her, on her throat, on her lips.

“You know me, Caleb, I always bounce back from things.”

One of his dark eyebrows lifted slightly. “That’s just the thing, Portia, I don’t know you. We’ve been sharing this small town for a long time and we never talk.”

She shrugged. “We say hello, we talk about the weather. There’s never been a reason for us to have a real conversation before now.”

“We definitely need to have more than a passing conversation now. Joe told me that you were dating Eric Willowby before you dated him.”

“Eric and I dated for a little while,” she agreed. “But that was months ago. Surely you can’t imagine that he’d have anything to do with this.” She rose from the sofa, unwilling to share anything else personal with him. “I appreciate you coming by to check on me, but as you can see, I’m fine.” She looked at the door, giving him the nonverbal message that she was finished with the conversation.

Caleb rose slowly from the chair, as if reluctant to leave. She walked with him to the front door and he turned back to face her.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You still look upset,” he said.

She was upset, but it had less to do with the break-in and more about how his presence affected her. “I’m fine,” she replied, surprised to hear a slight tremor in her voice.

He reached up and touched a strand of her hair. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

For a moment they simply looked at each other and Portia felt the past rising up between them. A mix of emotions cascaded through her. A snapping electricity combined with a heady rush of desire and mingled with a bittersweet pain.

His eyes darkened and softened and as he stepped closer to her she knew with a woman’s instinct that he intended to kiss her.

Her brain told her to step back, to stop it from happening, but her feet remained frozen in place and as he leaned down to taste her lips, she raised her head to receive the kiss.

Hot and half-wild, that’s how she remembered his kisses, and this one was no different. His lips were soft and yet commanding, but as he raised his arms to embrace her, she broke the kiss and took a step back from him, angry that he would try to kiss her, even angrier that she’d let him.

“That was stupid,” she exclaimed.

He grinned, the boyish smile she’d once loved to see. “Maybe,” he agreed. “But sometimes stupid tastes good. Good night, Portia.”

As he stepped out on the porch she slammed her door and locked it behind him, angry that he could still make her want him after all these years.

She was right. It had been stupid to kiss her, but she’d looked so damned kissable in that sexy green robe that allowed the tops of her creamy breasts to peek out and displayed her gorgeous legs.

He got into his car and gripped the steering wheel with both hands to allow the wave of desire that gripped him to slowly ebb away.

When he felt more in control, he started his car and pulled out of her driveway. He’d spent much of his day not only trying to find out who had broken into her day care, but also asking questions about Portia, trying to get a feel for the woman she’d become.

Loving. Generous and kind: those were words that had been used again and again to describe her. So why hadn’t she married and started a family of her own?

Yes, it had been foolish to kiss her, but he’d wanted to taste her mouth, see if she still had the capacity to stir him. The answer was a definitive yes.

But years ago he hadn’t been enough for her. She hadn’t trusted him, hadn’t trusted in his love, and there was nothing to indicate that another round with Portia would have different results.

He wouldn’t put his heart on the line with her again, but he definitely wouldn’t mind laying her down in a bed of fresh, scented sheets and making love to her until they were both gasping and sated.

She’d allowed him the kiss, but he had a feeling there was no way she’d be agreeable to a night of wild, mindless sex.

She’d thought he’d cheated on her when she’d been out of town and then again when she’d left for college. She’d allowed rumors and innuendoes to crack them apart. It hadn’t mattered that he’d proclaimed his innocence loud and long; ultimately she hadn’t believed him.

He’d never quite been able to forgive her for that, and that betrayal from her, coupled with the killer blow that Laura had delivered to him, made him wary of attempting any serious relationship ever again.

As he entered his small house, the first thing he thought about was how gray and dismal his surroundings appeared compared to the rich, bold colors of Portia’s living room.

Her living room had been filled with life, as if a burst of laughter was ready to resound within the walls. He threw his keys on the coffee table and sank down on the gray sofa.

Gray. That was how he’d felt lately, as if he were just going through the motions of life without any real emotion or joy.

Over the last month he’d watched his oldest brother Tom find love with a beautiful woman and her infant daughter, and Caleb had been surprised by the yearning his brother’s happiness had pulled forth in him.

With a grunt of dissatisfaction, he pulled himself off the sofa and went into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.

He popped the tab and took a long swallow as he eased down into a chair at the kitchen table. As always when he had a quiet moment to himself, thoughts of his sister jumped into his mind.

“Brittany, where are you?” he muttered aloud.

He knew with gut instinct that she was in trouble, although he refused to believe she might be dead. A missing persons report had gone out to all the news outlets in a four-state area and the brothers had checked her house for any signs of foul play, but there had been none. They had conducted search parties for days that had yielded nothing. The worst part was not knowing what happened and not knowing where to begin to look for her.

With a sigh he took another sip of his beer. His cell phone rang and caller ID let him know it was his brother Benjamin. “Hey, bro, what’s up?”

“Tom wants us to meet him at the Miller place as soon as possible,” Benjamin said.

“The Miller place?” Caleb said in surprise. “Why?”

The Miller place was an abandoned farmhouse on the north edge of town. It had been a foreclosure that had been for sale for a couple of years.

“He said Layla was showing the place to some out-of-towner and called him a few minutes ago to tell him there’s a vehicle parked in the old barn. That’s all I know, but Tom wants us there.”

“Be there in ten,” Caleb said and clicked off.

Caleb set the beer on the table, grabbed his car keys and headed out. It wasn’t unusual for the Grayson men to act as backup for each other when something came up that didn’t sound right.

Tom was a cautious man, which was one of his strengths as sheriff. Caleb, on the other hand, had a tendency to be impatient. He knew it was a fault of his, one that he’d have to work on to become the kind of deputy he wanted to be.

Even though it was almost eight in the evening when he pulled down the dirt lane that led to the Miller place, the sun was still warm and bright, although lowering in the western sky.

Tom’s car was already parked in front of the house, along with a car he recognized as belonging to Layla West, Black Rock’s most aggressive real-estate agent and Portia’s best friend since high school.

“What’s going on?” Caleb asked as he approached where the two of them stood in the front yard.

“Layla was just about to tell me,” Tom said.

“I had an out-of-town client, and I brought him here on Saturday to look at the house. Today he wanted to come back and check out all the outbuildings.” Layla pointed to the barn in the distance. “We went into the barn and in the back of it, underneath some blankets, is a car.”

“What kind of a car?” Caleb asked.

“I’m not sure. It freaked me out and I got my client out of the barn and called Tom.” She looked at Caleb’s brother. “Nobody should be parked in there, Tom. This property belongs to the bank and it definitely wasn’t there when I showed this place a couple of months ago.”

At that moment Benjamin pulled up and Tom quickly filled him in on what had occurred. “You go on home, Layla,” he said. “We’ll let you know what’s going on when we know something.”

It was obvious she would have preferred to linger and find out the scoop. “Come on, Layla, I’ll walk you to your car,” Caleb said. Tom shot him a grateful smile.

“Portia told me about the break-in,” she said as they walked across the tall grass. “Are you going to find out who did it?”

“I’m doing my best,” Caleb replied.

“You need to do better than your best,” Layla said with a touch of censure.

Caleb opened the driver’s side door of her car. “We’ll figure out who’s bothering Portia, but in the meantime we need to figure out what’s going on here.”

“Be sure and let me know,” she said as she slid into the driver’s seat. “And be nice to Portia,” she added as she started the engine with a roar.

Caleb didn’t wait to watch her drive away, but rather turned and hurried back to Tom and Benjamin. “Shall we check it out?”

Tom nodded and the three brothers walked side by side to the barn. “I haven’t received any reports of stolen vehicles,” Tom said as he pulled open the doors.

“Maybe somebody just didn’t want to pay to have it hauled away,” Benjamin said.

“Or it’s being hidden from creditors,” Caleb added. “Nobody likes the repo man.”

They found the car in the very back of the barn, and just as Layla had said, it was covered with old blankets. Only the grill was showing and the sight of it sent a chill through Caleb.

As Tom and Benjamin yanked the blankets off, the chill deepened. Brittany’s car. For a moment none of them said a word.

It was Benjamin who broke the silence. “I’ll go get some gloves,” he said and hurried out of the barn.

Caleb peered into the driver’s window, careful not to touch the side of the car. “Her keys are in the ignition, but I don’t see her purse anywhere.”

Caleb felt sick and one look at Tom let him know his brother felt the same way. Tom’s face was pale and his jaw clenched tightly.

There was no way to believe there wasn’t foul play involved. Brittany wouldn’t hide her car and just walk off with somebody.

Caleb’s gaze lingered on the closed trunk and a rising fear thickened in the back of his throat. As Benjamin came back into the barn, half out of breath from running, he handed each of them a pair of latex gloves.

Caleb pulled his on and opened the driver’s side door. Carefully he leaned in and pulled the keys from the ignition.

His feet felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds apiece as he walked to the back of the car. Benjamin and Tom joined him there as he carefully put the key into the trunk lock.

For a moment it was as if the entire universe held its breath. He could smell the fear in the air. Caleb twisted the key and the trunk lid popped open.

He nearly fell to his knees in relief.

It was empty.

“I’ll call the men,” Tom said, his voice deeper than usual. “We need to process this car and see if we can find anything that will let us know what’s happened to Brittany.”

None of them spoke of the fact that it might be too late, that if the car had been hidden here right after Brittany disappeared, then it had been five weeks since anyone had seen their sister alive.