Читать книгу Deadly Reckoning - Elle James - Страница 9

Gabe reached out and grabbed for the woman, once again, to keep her from crashing to the ground. She sagged against him, her head lolling back, exposing her neck and the distinct yellowing of fading bruises. What the hell?

“Ms. Davies?” He shifted her, holding her in one arm while smoothing the rich, auburn hair from her eyes. The color of her hair struck a chord with him. Where had he seen dark red hair recently?

Then it dawned on him. The murder victim on the beach had dark red hair. “Ms. Davies, please wake up.” He shook her gently.

Kayla blinked, her eyes staring up into his, tears filling them almost immediately. “I’m sorry.” She pushed against him, the movement not enough to convince him to let go.

Gabe kept his hold on her, his arm slipping around her waist, her breasts pressed firmly into his chest. He stood a head taller than she did; the soft curls hanging down her back brushed against his hand. Her pale skin against the deep auburn hair gave her a pretty, feminine and fragile appeal that would inspire any man to want to protect her. Including Gabe.

So where did the bruises come from?

“I can stand on my own,” she said.

“I don’t believe you. If you don’t mind, I’d rather hold on until we’re well away from the edge of the cliff.”

“But I was painting,” she said, waving her hand limply.

“Considering the canvas flew over the edge, I’d say you’re done for now.”

Her gaze held his for a moment, then she sighed. “You’re right. Who was I fooling anyway?” The last bit was muttered under her breath.

Keeping one hand around her waist, he handed the box of paintbrushes to her and gathered the easel under his spare arm. “Ready?”

“I guess.” She looked at the edge of the cliff where her canvas had gone over.

“Trust me, you won’t find it.” Gabe urged her toward the cottage. “And if you did, you wouldn’t be able to get to it. That part of the bluff is too steep to climb down and back up.”

She smiled, a short quirk of her lips. The sun seemed to come out, then fade away as quickly as it rose in her face, her green eyes darkening with her frown. “Really, I can walk on my own.”

“Prove it by walking with me first.”

She let him walk her several yards away from the edge of the cliff before she glanced up at him. “See?”

Gabe reluctantly let go of her waist, a strange feeling of loss resulting from the separation. He wanted to keep her tucked safely in the crook of his arm. Must be that waiflike appearance she had about her. Her pale skin only emphasized the dark circles beneath her eyes, adding an air of mystery and tragedy to her beautiful features.

They crossed the distance between the cliff and the cottage in silence. Gabe didn’t want to start questioning her until he was certain he wouldn’t be picking her up off the ground again. A chair would be nice. And apparently, Ms. Davies wasn’t anxious to talk right away, either, her lips pressed into a line, the frown furrowing her forehead more worried than angry.

When she reached the cottage and pushed the door open, she paused. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you, Ms. Davies.” Gabe stepped inside and leaned the easel against the wall. The cabin was like so many other cabins along the coast, decorated in light, durable furnishings in keeping with summer vacation beach residences. The open living space had a large picture window facing the ocean.

“Call me Kayla. Ms. Davies makes me sound old.” She set the box of supplies on an end table and headed for the kitchen. One after the other, she rummaged through the cabinets, her movements brisk and efficient, but Gabe noticed the way her hands shook a little as she unearthed a teakettle.

Gabe stepped up beside her and grabbed her hands, kettle and all. “Sit.” He led her to the dinette table and pulled out a chair, forcing her into it.

For a moment, Kayla looked as if she was about to argue, but then the fight seemed to leach out of her. She stared out the window, her face blank, expression closed. “I thought it was my nightmare.”

“What?” Gabe sat across from her and continued to hold her hands in his. “What did you think was your nightmare?”

“The scream.” Her gaze shifted from the window to his face. “I thought it was part of my nightmare. I did nothing.”

His stomach did a flip-flop, the desperation in Kayla’s face making him want to pull her back into his arms and shield her from whatever ghosts haunted her. He squeezed her hands in his. “So you heard a scream?”

“Yes. I woke from a bad dream and was just going back to sleep when it happened.”

“What time?”

“Around midnight. I thought I’d drifted off. I thought the scream was me.”

“And what do you think now?”

“I wasn’t asleep. I know that now.” She dragged her hands from his and buried her face in them. “She screamed and I just lay there.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

When she looked up, he saw that her face was streaked with tears. “I could have helped.”

“Or been just another victim.”

“If I’d realized what was going on, I could have called the police.”

“Likely the man would have gotten away by the time we got there anyway.” He took one of her hands in his again. “You didn’t kill her. Someone else did.”

Her eyes widened and her free hand went to her throat. “H-h-how did she die?”

Gabe’s gaze focused on the yellow markings on her neck. “Without having an autopsy report, I can’t be certain, but she showed signs of strangulation.”

Kayla gasped. “Oh, God, no.”

“What?”

“No.” She shook her head, more tears slipping down her cheeks before she buried her face in her hands again.

“Kayla, what’s wrong?” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

Her body trembled beneath his touch.

“This is my fault.”

“What? No, Kayla, I told you. You’re not responsible for what the killer has done.”

“Yes, I am. You don’t understand.” She looked up, the expression on her tear-streaked face deadly earnest. “I’m the reason it happened.”

Gabe released her shoulder to reach down and take her hand. “Does it have to do with the bruising on your neck?”

She stared up into his face, but there was a vacant look in her eyes that made him uneasy, as if she didn’t really see him there. “He followed me, he must have.”

“Who followed you?”

“I don’t know.” Her hand clenched tightly around his. “He’s come to kill me. And instead, he’s killed that girl, that poor girl….”

“Who, Kayla?” Gabe was filled with confusion. Was someone truly after Kayla? Uneasily, he realized that she did fit the same physical profile as the victim—petite frame and dark red hair. But did that really mean that someone was after her, or was her imagination running out of control? He didn’t know her well enough to say.

“Who do you think killed the girl? Who do you believe has come to kill you?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She touched the fingers of her free hand to the bruises on her neck. “I just know that he tried to before and almost succeeded.”

Some of the blankness faded away. Her green eyes were steady and focused as they stared into his, and she spoke again.

“He’s going to try again.”

A few hours later, Kayla was alone in the house again. Officer McGregor had left after he’d gotten the basic story of her attack. He’d promised to contact the Seattle Police Department for the official report in case the incident truly was related to the murder of the girl on the beach, but he had assured her that a connection was unlikely.

Cape Churn was a three-hour drive from Seattle, and by her own report, hardly anyone in Seattle knew where she had gone. The odds were very slim that her attacker would know how to find her. And yet, as Kayla stood barefoot at the window overlooking the road, she felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

The scenery out the front of the cottage wasn’t quite as picturesque as out the back overlooking the ocean, but she could see when people drove up or passed by on the road.

For now, the ocean view had lost its appeal. Her easel stood beside the back window, the view as glorious as the day before, the sun high in the sky, casting brilliant light over rocky cliffs and steely gray water speckled with white-capped waves. But Kayla couldn’t find the right colors on her palette to start, an image of a body floating in the current swimming through her mind, taking away from all the glory of nature.

A woman had died pretty much outside her cottage the night before and she had heard her cry for help.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened to her if someone had not heard her cries for help back in Seattle. What if her attacker had finished her off, taking her life—and her baby’s life—the way someone had taken the life of the woman found on the beach?

“I messed up, Baby,” she murmured. “Maybe I could have helped that girl if I’d just realized …” She squeezed shut her eyes, pain twisting in her gut. “I let her down, and I’m so afraid of letting you down, too.”

She reached down to stroke her belly. “This place was supposed to be safe, a place where no one could hurt either of us, but now I’m not so sure. The worst part is that I just don’t know where that place would be.”

Her stomach rumbled, serving as a reminder to save her introspection until later and get to work on eating for two right now.

As she rattled around in the kitchen, she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. She couldn’t let herself dwell on her fears. It wouldn’t accomplish anything. Officer McGregor was probably right, anyway, that the attack was in no way related to hers. It was a tragedy—a horrible, senseless tragedy—but it wasn’t her fault. It had nothing to do with her at all.

So why couldn’t she believe that?

On the other side of town, Gabe McGregor pulled his police cruiser up next to the teenager walking his bicycle, slid the passenger-seat window down and leaned over so that he could see the boy’s face. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where were you?”

The teen shrugged. “Around.” He pushed his bike up one of the many hills surrounding Cape Churn.

Gabe kept pace, while tamping down his frustration. “We’ve been over this before. I don’t mind if you visit your friends, I’d just like to know when you do, where you’re going and when you’re headed home.”

“Kinda stalker-like, if you ask me.”

“Not the way I look at it.” Talking through the open window wasn’t any way to get through to a troubled teen. Gabe pulled ahead of Dakota and parked on the side of the road, blocking the boy’s path. He climbed out, smiled and waved at a passing car before resuming his conversation with the stranger who was his son.

He’d known about Dakota for only a matter of months. The boy’s mother hadn’t bothered to tell him that a son had resulted from his brief fling with the older woman back when Gabe was a teen. Siena had been twenty-five, Gabe had been a naive eighteen-year-old, flattered by an older woman’s attentions. He’d even imagined himself in love with her. She’d been on vacation with friends at Cape Churn. When she’d left, he hadn’t heard from her again, until four months ago.

Siena had shown up at Gabe’s apartment in Seattle long enough to tell him that he had a son. She’d pushed the boy carrying a single suitcase in front of her, stating she couldn’t handle him anymore. Then she’d left.

After the initial shock wore off, he realized he couldn’t raise a kid in downtown Seattle, especially not with the crazy hours he kept serving on the Seattle police force. He quit his job and moved home to Cape Churn. But nothing had prepared him for the difficulties of raising a teenage boy—a troubled one, at that. Apparently Dakota had gotten into a little legal trouble. It was nothing too serious, but he was on probation, and that had apparently been the straw that had broken the camel’s back when it came to Siena’s patience with their son.

Gabe pushed his hand through his hair, rather than pulling it out, and stood in front of Dakota. He needed instant dad lessons. “I don’t ask you to keep me informed because I want to stalk you. I ask you because I care.”

“Could you care a little less? I’m not a baby. I don’t need a keeper.” The words he didn’t say, but Gabe felt, were I don’t need you.

He let the implied meaning slide off his back. Whether or not Dakota thought he needed his father, he needed someone. And since Gabe was the only one he had, Dakota was stuck with him until he finished high school. Gabe didn’t give up easily. “No, I can’t care a little less. You’re my son.”

Dakota snorted.

Gabe’s lips pressed together to keep from saying something about the boy’s attitude. He remembered having a similar one when he was Dakota’s age. Thank goodness his parents hadn’t given up on him. “As I’ve told you before, I didn’t know about you until recently, or I would have been more involved as a parent all along. But I know about you now—you’re here, I care and we’re going to figure out this father-son thing if it kills us.”

Okay, so that wasn’t quite what he’d meant to say, but so be it. He’d tried all the textbook suggestions on getting through to a teen and they had worked no better.

“I want to know where you go so that I know you’re safe.”

“Really?” Dakota’s brows rose into the shaggy hair hanging down over his brow. “Like, this town has nothing goin’ on. Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

Gabe sucked in a deep breath, last night’s victim surfacing much too quickly. “I take it you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?”

“About the woman found strangled on the beach this morning.”

That got his son’s attention. Dakota stared up at Gabe, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not pullin’ my leg just to get me to call, are you?”

Gabe’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “Wish I was.”

Dakota’s face paled. “Dead? Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t like you being out on these roads alone.”

The teen’s brows scrunched together, that rebellious look returning. “I’m not a girl. I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure?” Gabe asked. “Women aren’t the only murder victims in the world, you know.”

“So, that doesn’t mean it’ll happen to me.” His son bounced the bicycle impatiently. “Is that all you wanted?”

“Let me know where you’re going and when. That’s all I’m asking. That way I’ll know which ditches to look in if you don’t come home on time.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about me being run off the road if I could drive myself.”

“Boy, you are so wrong.” Gabe shook his head, a smile curving his lips. “When you start driving, I’ll worry even more.”

“Not like I’ll be driving anytime soon.” Dakota sighed.

“Your probation ends on Saturday. We’ll start driving lessons then, I promise.”

Dakota scuffed his tennis shoe against the gravel on the shoulder of the road. “Stupid to be on probation for a little graffiti.”

“It’s considered destruction of property,” Gabe stated in a matter-of-fact way. “Property that doesn’t belong to you. How would you feel if someone painted your house with graffiti?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a house.”

Gabe sucked in a deep breath and let it out. The kid had a point. They were living with Gabe’s sister in her bed-and-breakfast until Gabe found a house he liked enough to buy. “Just call and leave a message on my voice mail when you come and go from your friends’ houses, will ya?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“At least text me to let me know where you’re going.” His voice was a little sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t walk on eggshells with the boy forever. “And don’t be late for dinner, it makes your aunt crazy.”

Gabe climbed back into the cruiser and pulled out onto the road, his gaze shifting between what was in front of him and the boy in the rearview mirror. He didn’t like leaving him on the side of the road, but short of manhandling him into the cruiser, he had no other choice. The kid just didn’t get it.

A murderer was loose in Cape Churn. Until they caught him, no one was safe. The knot in his gut tightened. Though he’d assured her otherwise, Gabe had begun to wonder if Kayla’s attack was connected.