Читать книгу A Man Apart - Ginna Gray - Страница 10

Matt felt every pothole and bump as the car bounced along the dirt road through the woods. Clutching the armrest, he gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to maintain a stoic expression, but a hard jar made him groan. “Ahhh…damn, doesn’t the lieutenant ever grade this excuse for a road?”

“Sorry.” Hank slanted him a sheepish look. “I’m going as slow as I can. Hang on. The lodge is just around the next bend.”

“Yeah, I know.” Matt had been to the lodge with John several times to fish.

He looked around at the thick woods on either side of the road. Through the trees on the right he caught an occasional glimpse of the lake, but there were no houses or people in sight. That was the main reason he had agreed to come here. The lodge was about two miles down the gravel road from the highway and the only structure on this finger of land, so he would have plenty of privacy.

John had inherited the lodge and all the land between it and the highway from an uncle. At present he was merely renting out a few boats, and occasionally a tenant occupied the building. When John retired, his plan was to reopen the place as a fishing lodge and run it himself.

“You know, I really do envy you, getting to spend the summer here,” Hank said as he brought the car to a stop in the circular drive in front of the lodge. “This is a real nice place, in a rustic sort of way.”

The large, two-story building sat in a clearing about a hundred yards from the lakeshore. Made of rough cedar, it had a covered veranda that ran all the way around, with porch swings and groupings of wicker furniture at intervals so that the fishermen who came here could sit and enjoy the view. John’s uncle had built the lodge to cater to people who preferred a quiet place where they could go fishing and boating, and just relax and enjoy good family-style meals and the peace and quiet of the country.

In addition to John’s quarters, the place had a huge living room, kitchen and dining room on the first floor and eight bedrooms and six bathrooms on the second floor.

“It’s easy to see why the lieutenant is so proud of it,” Hank continued. “You’re gonna be real comfortable here.”

Matt doubted that. These days he wasn’t comfortable anywhere. His wounds still throbbed and ached, and every step he made was pure agony, causing the mutilated muscles and tendons in his thigh to scream in protest.

With assistance from Hank and leaning heavily on a cane, Matt climbed the veranda steps. However, when he reached the top he was so wobbly he had to sit down in the first swing he reached, while Hank unloaded his bags from the car and carried them to his room. In no time his partner reappeared. “There’s something that smells delicious cooking in two big pots in the kitchen, but other than that there’s no sign of John’s tenant.”

“Good. I hope it stays that way.”

Hank looked away and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Yeah, well, I guess I’d better be heading back so you can unpack and get settled. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

“Don’t think so.” Matt knew his partner was worried about leaving him alone, but the truth was, that was exactly what he wanted. He was in no mood for socializing, not even with his best friend. “Look, don’t worry about me, okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Well…if you’re sure. And remember, if you need anything—anything at all—you just give me a call.”

As his partner drove away, Matt looked around. In addition to being a fisherman and guide, John’s uncle had been an avid gardener. Though isolated on wooded lake-shore, the lodge was surrounded by a neat lawn and a bed of roses, and other flowers Matt couldn’t name bordered the porch all around. From previous visits, Matt knew that there was also a vegetable garden out back, plus a large garage and storage shed.

Along one side and across the back, the forest came right up to the yard but a small, open meadow separated the lawn from the woods on the west side. At the front of the lodge the lawn went all the way down to the lake. The boat dock and fishing pier was a quarter mile or so farther along the shore, out of sight of the lodge and reached by a path through the woods.

It was a great place, and under other circumstances, Matt would have enjoyed being here to soak up the sunshine and nature, but now he resented being forced to stay when all he wanted was to go home and shut out the world.

The lieutenant had been right about one thing, Matt thought, looking around at the peaceful scene. He certainly shouldn’t have any trouble with nosy reporters out here in the boonies.

The sound of voices drew Matt’s attention to the woods along the east side of the yard just as a woman and a gang of children emerged. Annoyance firmed his mouth as they headed across the lawn toward the lodge. Great. Just what he needed.

They were either lost or trespassing, since all the land between there and the highway belonged to John Werner. Either way, Matt intended to send them packing.

The children were of different ages and, from what he could tell from that distance, different ethnic backgrounds. Dressed in shorts, T-shirts and dirty tennis shoes, they were sweaty, grubby and bedraggled. Oddly, each child carried a pan or bucket.

It was the woman, however, who drew his attention. She also wore shorts and a T-shirt, but on her, the common garments were unbelievably sexy, showing off full breasts, long legs and a curvy figure that made a man’s mouth go dry. Her auburn hair, a wild mane of curls that billowed around her face and shoulders, glinted red in the sunlight. It was that slow, hip-rolling walk, though, that distracted him most. Just watching her approach, he felt a surge of heat in his loins. It was the first time he’d experienced that particular reaction since he’d been shot, and it both pleased and annoyed him.

Putting as much weight as he could on his cane, Matt struggled to his feet. As the group drew nearer and he was about to launch into a blistering lecture about intruding on private property, the woman waved to him and called out, “Hi, there! I’m sorry we weren’t here when you arrived.”

Matt stiffened, his eyes narrowing as an uneasy feeling crept up his spine. There was something vaguely familiar about the woman, but she wasn’t the kind of female any red-blooded male was likely to forget.

“Hey, mister! Lookit what we gots,” a little blond cherub with a dirty face exclaimed.

Before he could stop them, the pack of children clambered noisily up the porch steps and the woman followed. The little blond cherub held up her bucket for him to admire, but the rest of the kids just eyed him with suspicion, as though he was the one who shouldn’t be there.

“All right, kids, take your blackberries inside and rinse them in the colander with cold water. Debbie, sweetheart, don’t bother the man.” She shot him a grin. “Sorry about that. She’s just proud of picking so many berries.”

Before he could reply, the woman turned back to the kids and clapped her hands. “Okay, introductions will come later. Everybody inside. Marshall, you and Yolanda see to the younger ones. And Tyrone, you and Dennis knock off that shoving.”

Matt stared at her, his uneasiness growing.

She turned back to Matt and cocked one auburn eyebrow. “Detective Dolan? You haven’t said a word. Is something wrong?”

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

The woman tossed back her head and laughed, and instantly he knew who she was. No man could ever forget that low, husky sound.

“Goodness. I know it’s been a couple of years, but surely I haven’t changed that much.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Maude Ann Henley, Tom Henley’s widow. You’re that shrink who used to work for the department.”

And she had changed all right. The woman he remembered had been reserved and perfectly groomed at all times, her makeup flawless. She’d dressed in tailored suits, wore her hair pulled severely back in a chignon and exuded an air of cool professionalism. Now she stood before him in ragged cutoffs, a form-fitting T-shirt, her hair a cloud of unruly curls, and apparently not wearing a speck of makeup. There was even a splattering of freckles across her nose, for Pete’s sake.

“Yes. Although, my name is actually Edwards. Dr. Maude Ann Edwards to be exact. I kept my maiden name for professional reasons. And just so you know, Detective, I prefer the term psychiatrist to shrink.”

“Just what the hell are you doing here, Dr. Edwards?”

She looked taken aback, whether by the question or his curt tone he neither knew nor cared. He just wanted an answer. Then he wanted her gone. He had avoided her when she worked at the precinct. He sure as hell didn’t want her around now.

“Why, I live here. Didn’t Lieutenant Werner tell you?”

“You live here? No, he didn’t tell me,” Matt ground out through clenched teeth. “Somehow he neglected to mention that particular piece of information. He just told me he had one tenant. I assumed it was a summer fisherman. That son of a—”

“Detective Dolan, please. I must ask that you refrain from cursing in front of the children.” Noticing that the kids hadn’t moved, she shooed them toward the door. “Go on in and wash those berries like I told you. Jane will be back from the store soon. If the berries aren’t ready, she won’t be able to make that cobbler you want for dessert. So get. All of you.”

The departure of the younger children sounded like a herd of wild mustangs clattering across the wooden porch. Amid shouts and squeals and a round of pushing and shoving to see who could be first, and the repeated squeak and bang of the front door, they disappeared into the lodge. A few of the older children, however, were reluctant to leave, They dragged their feet, looking balefully at Matt as they shuffled inside.

When the last straggler disappeared through the door, Maude Ann turned her attention back to Matt.

“Actually, to be fair, Lieutenant Werner didn’t lie to you, Detective. I am the only tenant at the lodge.”

“Why are you here?” She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up his hand and stopped her. “No, don’t bother. It’s obvious. Well, you can tell the lieutenant that I don’t need anyone to play nursemaid, and I sure as hell don’t need a shrink. So this little scheme of his was a waste of time.”

Laughter twinkled in Maude Ann’s whiskey-colored eyes. “My, my, what an ego you have, Dolan. Funny, I worked with you for two years and I never realized that. It so happens that my being here has nothing whatever to do with you. I leased the lodge from the lieutenant to house the foster home I established for abused and neglected children who have been taken away from their parents or guardians. I call it Henley Haven, in honor of my late husband.”

“A foster home? You mean, that mob of kids lives here?”

“Yes. And they’re hardly a mob. There are only seven children here at the moment. Henley Haven can accommodate ten easily. A dozen in an emergency. But whatever the number, the children keep me much too busy to have time to spend on you. Actually, it should relieve your mind to know that I no longer see patients. I prefer to use my training and experience helping these children adjust and heal, so you needn’t worry that I’ll be analyzing you.”

“You’re not going to get the chance, lady.”

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. When the lieutenant called he merely asked if I would mind if you stayed in his quarters while you recuperated and drive you into Houston for your checkups. I go into Houston regularly anyway, and since he’s giving me a good deal on this place, I couldn’t very well refuse. Besides, his room isn’t part of my lease agreement. That’s always kept ready for him when he visits, so you’re not putting anyone out.

“I did agree that you could eat with us. Jane and I must cook for the children, anyway, so even that isn’t an imposition. I assure you, meals, housekeeping and an occasional ride into town are all the help you’ll receive from me.”

“I won’t be needing those, either,” he snapped. “Dammit, I only agreed to come out here to soak up some sunshine and peace and quiet. Instead, what do I find? A lady shrink and a bunch of rug rats.”

“Hey, pig, who you calling a rat?”

“Tyrone!” Maude Ann admonished as a small black boy charged out onto the porch.

The door banged shut as he stepped between Matt and Maude Ann. Assuming a challenging stance that was comical in a youngster, he glared at Matt and thrust out his chin.

Surprise shot through Matt. He recognized the kid instantly. Tyrone Washington was the child of a female junkie from the section of Houston known as Denver Harbor.

Only seven, the kid was already headed for trouble. Most of the time his mother was stoned out of her mind, and Tyrone ran virtually wild through the slum neighborhood. The kid had a mouth on him like a longshoreman’s and an eye for larceny. Tyrone might be only seven, but in the ways of the world he was about forty-five.

Matt looked the kid up and down and returned his glare with a cynical half smile. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Tyrone Washington. The Denver Harbor tough guy.”

“That’s right, pig, an’ there ain’t nothin’ you kin do ’bout it, so kiss my a—”

“Tyrone!” Maude Ann admonished again. “You’re to watch your language, young man. Furthermore, you are not to call Detective Dolan by that derogatory name. Do you understand?”

The boy looked back at her over his shoulder. “Daroga what? Whazzat mean?”

“Derogatory. It means insulting and degrading. You’re new, but you’ve been here long enough to know that we don’t treat people that way.”

A perplexed frown wrinkled Tyrone’s forehead. “Not even stinkin’ cops?”

“No. Especially not cops. Remember I told you my husband was a policeman and a wonderful man. Now apologize.”

Tyrone’s face turned mulish. “I ain’t gonna ’pologize to no—”

“Tyrone, either apologize or you stay here with Jane tomorrow while the rest of us go to the movies. The choice is yours.”

“Ah, Miz Maudie—”

“You heard me, Tyrone.”

“Look, can we drop this?” Matt snapped. “I don’t care if the little punk apologizes or not.”

“Mr. Dolan! I said no name calling. The rules I’ve given the children apply to everyone who stays here.”

“Then we don’t have a problem, because I’m not staying.”

“That is entirely up to you, Detective,” she replied with a pleasant smile. “I have no feelings on the matter one way or another, I assure you.”

“Fine, then you won’t mind if I call the lieutenant and tell him to send someone to pick me up, will you,” he snapped back.

“Not at all. There’s a telephone in your room.”

Matt gave her a curt nod. Leaning on his cane, he gritted his teeth and turned to leave.

“Humph. Good riddance,” Tyrone muttered, but this time Maude Ann was too distracted to correct him.

She bit her lower lip and watched Matt Dolan limp away. She recalled how he used to look, striding around the station house, often without his suit jacket and his shirtsleeves rolled up. A big man with broad shoulders, a lean muscular build and a self-confident demeanor, he had emitted an aura of masculine invincibility and strength.

His back was still ramrod straight and his head high, but he had lost weight during his stay in the hospital, and his progress was so slow and so obviously painful it wrung her heart. It was all she could do not to rush forward and help him.

The only thing that stopped her was the certain knowledge that he would rebuff the offer, probably none too politely. That, and the promise she had made to herself.

When John Werner had contacted her and asked if Matt Dolan could stay at the lodge for a few months, she had vowed she would give the man his space and not let herself become involved in his recovery in any way. She had enough on her hands with the children. Nor did she need or want to be drawn back into the world of law enforcement and the dark psychological and physical trauma that came with it.

She had left all that behind two years ago when her husband Tom had been killed during a bank holdup. Her life now was devoted to the children.

Self-deception had never been one of Maude Ann’s shortcomings, and she had to admit there was another reason for steering clear of Matt. She didn’t ever want to take a chance of falling for another law-enforcement officer.

Not that the risk of that happening was great. During the three years that she had worked for the HPD, Matt had been polite but distant. Maude Ann couldn’t recall ever having had a personal conversation with the man, nor had he ever consulted her about any of his cases unless a superior had ordered him to.

He wasn’t anything like Tom, not at all her type, and given their history, there was little danger of an attraction developing between them.

Still, Maude Ann wasn’t stupid. Matt Dolan was a handsome devil, in a tough-as-nails kind of way. With his black-as-coal hair and vivid blue eyes, those chiseled features and his general “go to hell” attitude, he stirred something deep in the female psyche that even the most intelligent of women would have a difficult time resisting.

Yes, it was definitely best, all around, if she gave Detective Dolan a wide berth.