Читать книгу The Baby's Bodyguard - Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 8

“My—?” Jack didn’t finish the question, because, finally, he did get it.

Last August, when his wife had showed up in L.A. to go over their settlement, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Although she’d felt the same way, the passion wasn’t enough to persuade her to stay.

“I thought you were on the pill,” he added numbly. The truth was, he hadn’t given any thought to a pregnancy, although he could see now that he should have.

“I’d just gone off it,” Casey said. “I didn’t think I could get pregnant yet. I was wrong.”

Having had plenty of experience with people who manipulated and lied, Jack knew she might have done it on purpose. But he didn’t believe that. For one thing, he respected Casey too much to think so poorly of her. Also, had her goal been to maneuver him into agreeing to start a family or to pressure him to pay child support, she wouldn’t have waited eight months for him to stumble onto the truth.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” he demanded, not so much from outrage as because he’d learned that asking questions was a good way to mask difficult emotions. And right now his emotions were about as confused as they’d ever been.

Casey clasped her hands in front. “I knew you didn’t want a baby and I never meant to force you.”

“Some things are hard to hide,” he pointed out. “Don’t you think I’d have learned the truth eventually?”

“In nearly three years, this is the first time you’ve come to Tennessee.” Restlessly, she began tossing the party detritus into a paper bag.

A woman in her condition shouldn’t have to clean up by herself. Guiltily, Jack realized Casey’s friends probably would have stayed to help if he hadn’t arrived.

He began collecting paper plates bearing the remains of cake and ice cream. The smell of food reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast except the beef jerky. Fortunately, he was used to missing meals.

“So when is it due?” He couldn’t say the words “the baby” yet. That made the whole thing seem too real.

“In a few weeks.”

“I’ll pay the doctor bills.” It was the least he could do.

“They’re taken care of.” Pulling down a banner, she stuffed it into her sack. “Around here, the doctor lets you pay on an installment plan.”

How typical of Casey to insist on handling everything herself. Jack wished she’d let him help. He knew better than to insist, though.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before she added, “You’re not mad?”

“I’m too buffaloed to be mad,” he admitted.

“Does that mean you might get angry after you’ve had time to absorb it?” she probed.

Seeking a reasonable response, he said, “I don’t suppose this is your fault any more than it is mine.”

Sadness and resignation mingled in her expression. “No,” Casey replied tiredly, “I don’t suppose it is.” Hauling her sack, she went into the kitchen. Jack suppressed the urge to carry it himself, because he could tell she wanted a few minutes alone.

He’d said the wrong thing again. Under his breath, he cursed his ineptness as he collected more wrappings.

The problem was, he had no idea what remark had set her off. He didn’t understand how she felt or how he felt, either. As for how to deal with Casey, he might as well have stepped out of an airplane to discover himself on an alien planet where a two-headed, gibberish-speaking native was expecting him to say and do the right things.

He didn’t know where to start.

* * *

I DON’T SUPPOSE this is your fault.

Well, there was an enthusiastic response, Casey reflected grumpily. She dropped the sack near the back door, since she didn’t feel up to carting it outside and wrestling with the heavy, locking trash can lid that kept animals at bay.

In spite of everything she knew about Jack, her heart had leaped at seeing him in the doorway. When he’d given her that baffled, little-boy look and run his fingers through his hair in consternation, she might have gathered him into her arms if the guests hadn’t been standing around.

And if her abdomen wouldn’t have gotten in the way.

What had she expected, that he’d take one look at her bulge and turn into an ecstatic daddy-to-be? Jack had made his position clear, so she shouldn’t be surprised that one glance at her advanced condition hadn’t changed his mind. But it was heartbreaking.

Anxious to keep busy, Casey began unloading the dishwasher Enid had run earlier. As she stowed cake pans and trays in the cabinets, she calmed at the memory of how much fun she’d had, playing silly games and eating too much at the party.

Her friends had been more than generous. She really appreciated the way they’d chipped in for a playpen and car seat, which meant a big savings to her budget. She made a mental note to begin writing thank-yous as soon as she found a spare moment.

Why did Jack have to show up and make everyone go home early? Why did he have to make her heart beat faster and remind her of how much she missed him?

She wished seeing him didn’t have this effect. Also that he would at least pretend to be excited about the baby. Instead, he acted as if this were an irksome inconvenience, like a car that had broken down and couldn’t be fixed.

It would have been better if he hadn’t found out. They could have led their separate lives peacefully, as if they’d never met.

Oh, right. As if she could forget him when every time she looked at her daughter she was likely to see his eyes or his grin. Diane’s very existence reminded her of the unforgettable night when they’d created her.

Standing motionless on the linoleum, Casey forced herself to be honest. She’d longed for Jack to find out. She’d wanted him to grin and admit what a huge mistake he’d made by foolishly rejecting fatherhood. Then, no doubt, they could have strolled off into the sunset, pushing a baby carriage and feeding each other bonbons.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen. So he ought to leave, and the sooner the better.

Of course, she had to be practical if she wanted him to accept the heave-ho. He had come an awfully long way with good motives and, being a guy, he must want food, Casey reasoned.

Retrieving some of the finger sandwiches Enid had stored in the fridge, she tucked them and a cupcake inside a lunch bag. At least he couldn’t say she sent him away hungry.

Then she heard the one noise a woman never, ever expects to emanate from a room in which she has left an unaccompanied male.

He was running the vacuum cleaner.

Astonished, Casey went to watch. Not that she imagined sprites had sneaked in to do the cleanup, but some things had to be witnessed to be accepted.

The first thing she saw in the living room was Jack’s dark suit coat draped over a chair. The second was the tantalizing way his button-down shirt emphasized the contours of his chest as he navigated the vacuum around the table legs.

He stopped to move a chair aside and pick up a bit of ribbon that had fallen beneath it. The attention to detail tickled her. She’d always admired her husband’s thoroughness, although she’d never seen him vacuum a carpet before. Whatever he did, he did well.

A moment later, he switched off the machine. When the noise died, he glanced up sheepishly. “I thought I’d help.”

“Thank you.” Casey pointed to the lunch sack. “I packed some food for you to take to wherever you’re staying.”

“I appreciate the offer.” He wound the cord into place. “But I’m staying here.”

She decided to pretend she hadn’t heard. “There’s a motel about three miles away, just past Lake Avenue.” Casey saw no reason to mention that her parents used to manage it. She’d grown up on the premises before they bought the Pine Woods.

He replaced the vacuum in a closet. “The couch will suit me fine.”

“You don’t honestly believe…” She halted the flow of words, remembering why he’d come. “Maybe you should explain exactly what I can expect while you’re here.”

“How many choices do I have?”

“You get to do A: Catch the bad guy. Go on, give me your sales pitch. How do you plan to do it?”

One eyebrow quirked but he kept a straight face. “Assess weaknesses and recommend improvements. Interview witnesses. Implement safety procedures. Catch the creep by whatever means necessary. I guess that sums it up.”

It sounded as if it could take a while. She hoped the investigation wouldn’t take weeks. Hours would be better. Minutes, even. If she let herself get dependent on Jack, she would feel all the more hurt when he left. “What kind of time frame are we talking about?”

Jack assumed a commanding stance with legs apart and head cocked. “I can make my evaluation in a day or two, but I’d rather…”

“A day or two is an absolute maximum.”

He took a deep breath. Calming himself, probably. “Let’s concentrate on the facts. How often does he show up?”

“This is the fourth time in a month,” Casey said. “That works out to about once a week.”

“How many people have seen him?”

“Gail and me. And Enid, or at least she heard somebody rustling around in her bushes one night. Enid and Gail live in the two closest cabins.” After a moment’s thought, Casey added, “Our mailbox got damaged, too, about three weeks ago, but it looked like a car scraped it. It’s right by the road.”

He took a notepad from his pocket and scribbled on it. “Always at night?”

“So far.”

“Has anything been stolen?” He spoke with the impersonal tone of a police officer.

Casey shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

“Any threats? Anonymous letters or e-mails? Hang-ups on the telephone?”

“No,” she replied.

“Besides the woman who thinks it might be her ex, does anyone else have reason to believe they’re being stalked?”

She responded in the negative.

Jack made another note and then seemed to remember who he was talking to. “Shouldn’t you be sitting down?”

“I’m fine.” Stubbornly, she held her ground, trying to ignore the way her abdomen tugged on her overstrained muscles.

He turned a chair backwards and sat down facing her. “Casey, when you told me someone sprayed you with a hose, I wasn’t aware you were carrying a child. It sounded bad enough before, but this is worse. That was a vicious thing to do.”

“He might not have been able to see in the dark,” she protested. “He might not have realized I’m pregnant.”

“Unless it’s someone who knows you.”

Maybe that possibility should have occurred to her before; however, she found it hard to accept. “I guess it’s your job to suspect everyone, but that’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

Because this was Richfield Crossing, not L.A., she thought in annoyance. But she already knew he wouldn’t buy that argument. “Nobody has a motive.” Since she gained no ground by continuing to stand, she yielded to common sense at last and sank onto the sofa.

“Don’t be so sure,” Jack retorted. “A predator doesn’t need the kind of motive you or I might recognize. And there are other motives that might not be obvious. A grudge, for instance. What about former tenants? Did your mother report any problems?”

“No. Everybody’s lived here for at least two years.”

“Are any of them unstable? I presume your mom ran a credit check, right?”

She nodded. “I hope you’re not planning to give them the third degree! They’re not just renters, they’re friends.”

“I’d like a list of their names,” he said calmly. “I’ll start interviewing them first thing tomorrow. Trust me, I know how to debrief witnesses without antagonizing them.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.” Casey supposed she shouldn’t be throwing roadblocks in his path, but Jack’s hard-nosed attitude put her back up. Besides, her attacker had to be a stranger.

“Tomorrow afternoon then,” he countered. “Don’t tell me they spend the entire day in prayer and seclusion.”

“This isn’t a monastery!”

“That much would be obvious to anyone looking at you.” Grinning crookedly, he reached out and took her hands. Casey saw his gaze fall on the wedding ring she wore.

Did he think she still considered herself married? She only wore the ring because of her condition, but let him think whatever he liked.

Besides, a glow was spreading through her as his thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. He smelled of masculine aftershave lotion, which reminded Casey of how she used to enjoy burying her face in his thick hair and trailing her mouth down to the corner of his jaw. It had always made him catch his breath and lean toward her…

…Just as he was doing now, so close their foreheads nearly touched. She ought to draw back. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. She didn’t want to give herself the wrong impression, either.

Her shift of position must have put pressure on her abdomen, because Diane kicked. Startled, Casey pulled back. “Ow!”

Worry deepened the faint lines around Jack’s mouth. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “The baby let me know she doesn’t like being squeezed. It didn’t hurt. She just startled me.”

He frowned. “You said ‘she.’ Does that mean you had one of those tests?”

Casey nodded. “It’s a girl. I’m naming her Diane.”

“That’s a nice name.” Releasing her hands, he flexed his shoulders. “I think I’ll eat that food now. Then I’ll take a stroll around the premises. I’d like to see how things look in the dark.”

She decided not to argue, although the question of whether Jack was staying here and for how long remained unresolved. Right now, she felt too relaxed.

After he went out, instructing her to lock the door behind him, Casey remembered what he’d said about this possibly being someone she knew. She preferred to speculate that it might be a transient camping out on vacant land in the area. If so, she hoped Jack would find him soon.

Maybe this visit hadn’t been such a bad idea, as long as they kept it short. Like it or not, he was Diane’s biological father. Someday their daughter would want to meet him and establish a relationship.

When that day came, maybe he’d remember sitting here learning about her for the first time. It might make him a little more welcoming.

For their daughter’s sake, Casey hoped so.

* * *

JACK’S PATROL DIDN’T turn up anything suspicious. It did reveal how exposed the cabins were, however.

The few exterior lighting fixtures left plenty of shadows, and no lampposts brightened the twilit footpaths. Prowling through the darkness, he could see right into most of the four units through their flimsy curtains. They didn’t even have fences to stop someone from crossing through the yards.

If it weren’t so expensive, he’d recommend installing surveillance cameras. But that, he admitted silently, might be overkill.

While he tried to keep his mind on the job, his impressions from the past hour kept drifting back. He still couldn’t fully grasp the fact that he’d gotten Casey pregnant eight months ago. All this time, his child had been growing inside her, and he’d had no clue.

His child. A little girl. Diane.

He couldn’t figure out how to integrate the idea of her into his worldview. Certainly he bore the tyke no hard feelings, even though she’d sprung into being against his wishes. And he knew he had moral and legal obligations to her. But what exactly was he supposed to do?

It wasn’t as if he had any role models to draw on. His own father had loved only one thing: alcohol.

He’d lost job after job because of it, and beaten his wife and little boy in a rage when he was drunk. Jack had learned early how to stay out of Pop’s way. He hadn’t been big enough to defend his mom and she’d never mustered the strength to stand up for herself. When she became sick, Pop had disappeared. Later, he’d landed in prison.

The last time Jack had heard from his father, while he was in college, it had been with a request for cash. Knowing what the money would be spent on, he’d refused. A few years later, his father had died from alcohol poisoning.

Maybe he should have suffered regrets. The only thing he’d regretted had been his father’s complete failure in relation to his family.

Jack knew he wasn’t like his old man. He rarely drank, and he would die before he’d hurt Casey or her child. Just thinking about how defenseless they were made his fists clench in a protective gesture.

The problem was, although he knew theoretically what a father was supposed to be like, he didn’t have it in him. Maybe the instincts lay buried, but the prospect of digging them out got him tangled up with frustration and pain, old emotions he tried hard to put behind him.

He could still hear the sarcasm darkening Pop’s voice when his irritation level began to rise. He remembered the explosions and his mother’s fear, along with his own terror and misplaced sense of guilt. The old wounds had never fully healed. Jack didn’t intend to rip them open again.

Grimly, he finished tracing the perimeter of the cleared part of Casey’s property and turned back. From the rental car, he collected his suitcase and laptop and let himself inside with a key he’d borrowed from Casey.

When he entered, the living room lay quiet. Instead of loud music or the blare of a TV, only a soft humming from the direction of the bedrooms broke the peace.

“Casey?” he called. “In here.”

Pushing past his reluctance, Jack walked through a short hall and entered the nursery. Casey stood ratcheting a teddy-bear mobile onto the crib. When she saw him, she pushed a button on the device, setting off a music-box version of “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”

His wife smiled as tinkling music filled the room. Tiny teddy bears revolved, their furry paws outstretched as if eager for Diane’s arrival. You couldn’t have shot a better commercial for home and happiness, Jack thought with an ache.

At the first foster home he’d gone to, when he was eleven, he’d walked into a nursery where the parents’ own six-month-old sat cooing and playing with a clown mobile. He didn’t remember the tune, but it had made him long for his mother.

The foster parents had rushed in and ordered him out as if he posed a threat to their precious offspring. He was never to go in there again, the man had snapped. They’d set up a cot for him in the sewing room; that was his place.

He’d learned later that that couple had never cared for foster children before and had taken him in because they needed money. They hadn’t been prepared for the moodiness of a preadolescent, for his flashes of anger or even for his poor table manners.

Jack knew many foster parents provided loving care, sometimes adopting the children. He hadn’t been so lucky. The six months he’d spent in that first house had made it agonizingly clear he didn’t belong.

Every time he’d heard music from the nursery, the sound had underscored the fact that he no longer had a home and probably never would. He’d had to harden himself to hold back the tears, as he was doing now.

Casey misread his reaction. “You don’t have to glare at me! Anyone else would be glad I’d set up such a nice welcome for the baby.”

“You’ve done a great job,” he muttered.

“You might try to sound as if you mean it.”

He could see that she’d put in a lot of work. She’d painted the place and probably stenciled those birds on the wall herself. The yellow-and-white color scheme, the shelves holding a couple of leather-bound classics—who could ask for more?

Not Jack. What he’d asked for was less. “I can’t change how I feel, so let’s not argue about it,” he told her. “Do you want to hear my preliminary observations about the property?”

“Sure.” She closed her tool kit. Some of his strain eased as they exited through the hall.

After stowing her tools in her office, Casey led the way into the old-fashioned kitchen, where the lingering scent of baking soothed Jack’s spirit. He’d loved spending time in the kitchen while they were living together.

Without asking, she poured them both decaf coffee. He would have preferred the regular version but didn’t want to impose.

“Shoot,” she said.

No need to consult his notes. “To start, you need better lighting. Also, I’d recommend you consider fencing the yards.”

“Unless I put up barbed wire, a prowler could go over it or through the gate.” She dosed her cup with cream and sugar and served his black, the way he liked it. “I don’t see that it would do much good.”

“It’s partly psychological,” Jack explained. “It provides a sense of containment. It also gives an intruder pause because it can slow down his escape.” He found the brew more flavorful than expected. Or maybe he simply enjoyed it because this was Casey’s house.

“I can’t afford to build fences, anyway,” she said. “That’s not a request for money. It’s a statement of fact.”

He knew better than to argue. “I don’t suppose you can afford to put up lighting along the footpaths, either.”

“You got that right.” She still seemed remote and almost combative. Apparently his attitude toward the nursery had set her off.

Jack refused to apologize. He’d warned her how he would likely react to a baby, although he hadn’t been specific. “If you can’t afford lighting and fences, you certainly can’t afford guards.”

“I suppose not.” She propped her elbows on the table. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I called you for a recommendation. I felt so mad about getting sprayed, I couldn’t think straight.”

Maybe, he thought, she’d subconsciously hoped he would come. But he knew better than to count on it. “My next suggestion is to organize your tenants into patrols. Two-person teams carrying cell phones. Not twenty-four hours a day, obviously, but during the evening when this guy’s most likely to show up.”

“One guy’s in his eighties and Enid’s in her seventies. I don’t want them trying to play super cop,” Casey said. “Plus even my more able-bodied tenants could break an ankle trying to patrol these woods in the dark.”

“There’s one more choice.”

“And it is?”

“You’re going to have to put up with me until I find this guy.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but, as I said before, I think you should leave as soon as possible.”

“Last night, you were ready to do whatever it took to nail this louse. You felt desperate enough to call on your almost-ex-husband, and we both know that’s pretty desperate.” Jack hoped a little humor might soften her resistance, but he saw no change in her attitude. “Now I find out you’re pregnant and more vulnerable than ever, but you’re backing off. Let me run this guy down.”

It seemed the least he could do. A man didn’t abandon his wife when she needed him, even if she’d abandoned him first.

Casey rested her chin on her fist. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her cheek.

“Let’s be honest,” she said.

“I’ve never been anything else.”

“You don’t want to stay,” she said. “You feel obligated. You hate being here, hate being around anything that reminds you of babies. I can read you like a book, Jack. You’re going to make us both miserable.”

He couldn’t claim otherwise, so he ignored her point. “Pretend I’m some hired hand who’s here to do a job. Then you won’t care whether I go gaga over nursery stuff.”

“No.”

“That’s it? Just plain no?”

“Try this: nyet, nein, no way. Is that clear enough?”

He could be just as stubborn as she. “I’m not leaving until we wrap this up.”

“I’ll get a restraining order.” Casey folded her arms. “Well?”

Jack didn’t think she’d do it but he knew better than to push her. “Is that what you really want? You’re so eager to get rid of me you’re willing to risk having this guy keep bugging you?”

Her lips formed a thin, stubborn line. Finally she said, “I don’t even think it’s a good idea for you to stay a day or two.”

“Casey!” She was so stubborn, she made mules look compliant. Jack came very close to saying so.

“I’ll let you stay tonight because it’s getting late, but that’s all. Really, the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s probably just a neighbor’s kid,” she told him. “Nothing’s been stolen or damaged except for that mailbox, which might not even be connected. It’s not that serious. I overreacted.”

An assault on a pregnant woman seemed serious enough to Jack, but he’d run out of arguments. Before he could decide how to proceed, his cell phone rang.

Excusing himself, he answered. “Arnett.”

“Jack? It’s Mike.” His partner sounded frazzled. “I’ve got to run up to San Francisco for a couple of days.” He mentioned a client there who needed a security upgrade. “The problem is, I’ve got an appointment Monday with Paul Mendez. You remember him?”

“Sure.” Paul planned to retire in another month from the Denver police department. He’d expressed interest in joining Men at Arms as a partner, and they could certainly use one.

They had a growing staff of guards assigned to various clients, and added other employees as needed, sometimes on a temporary basis. A manager, an administrative assistant and an accountant handled the paperwork. The partners themselves planned and supervised all major operations, as well as trouble-shooting to keep their clients happy.

“Well, he’s going to be in town and wants to go over the financial details. Since you’re back, I was hoping you could take care of it.”

“I’m not exactly back,” Jack admitted. Casey, who’d carried their empty cups to the sink, glanced at him wryly.

“Where are you?”

“Tennessee. A prowler assaulted Casey on her property.” He saw no point in mentioning the pregnancy.

“I see.” He probably didn’t, though. A twice-divorced workaholic, Mike always put business ahead of family. “We really ought to attend to this. We both like Paul and it helps that he’s bilingual.” An increasing amount of their business involved Spanish-speaking clients.

Jack’s gut instinct told him to fight harder to resolve this case, but he did have an obligation to his company. Also, Casey was standing right there mouthing the word, “Go!”

He shook his head.

“Restraining order!” she hissed.

For heaven’s sake, why fight her? If she didn’t want him, he had no business forcing his company on her.

“Okay,” he said into the phone. “I’ll catch a plane tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I knew I….” The phone went dead.

Jack frowned. “It cut off.”

“Happens all the time around here,” Casey replied. “My service provider claims I live in a dead spot.”

His gut urged Jack to stay to protect this woman. And this baby, even though he hadn’t asked for it. But he’d be kidding himself if he imagined that sticking around would make any difference to their future.

Maybe she was right that she’d overreacted. After all, she hadn’t received any threats. Most likely some bum seeking shelter had panicked when she aimed a camera at him.

“All right,” he conceded grimly. “Tomorrow morning, I’m out of here.”

“We’ll both be a lot happier,” Casey said.

Jack seriously doubted it.