Читать книгу Countdown to Danger - Hannah Alexander, Jill Elizabeth Nelson - Страница 12

TWO

Though Lynley knew John meant every word, she still wished she could return to a few moments ago, when she felt safe in his arms. She resisted the urge to move closer to him. After her disaster of a marriage, she vowed to never again place herself in such a vulnerable position. When she made that vow, however, she hadn’t counted on befriending a man like John, who had all the characteristics her ex-husband had lacked.

“And what of you?” she asked.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “What about me?”

“While you’re placing yourself in harm’s way to protect me, who’s going to protect you?” When they’d first begun seeing each other on a friendly basis, she’d promised herself that she would break off the friendship if it threatened to turn into something more. Of course, when she first felt the threat looming in her heart, she’d struggled to convince herself she could certainly control her own emotions, and that breaking off their friendship would be a mistake.

She’d lied to herself, of course. Right now she could no more control her feelings toward John than she could scout out the person who threatened her life. The thought of John incurring injury in his duty to protect her was like a kick in the gut.

She should have read the signs months ago—about the time she found herself driving here to Mom’s when she had more than one day off at a time. Her apartment in Springfield had become oppressive lately. Lonely. She studied John’s face and realized it had become more precious to her every time she saw him—which was every time she came home.

John, too, appeared to look forward to her days off.

He tapped her on the arm. “This town is a safe place to be. You can stop worrying.”

“Yes, but—”

“Have you seen Gerard or his lovely wife on the shooting range recently?”

John’s mention of her best friend from childhood was intended to distract her, and it worked to a point. She grinned. “You know, I’m not bad, myself. Megan’s been working with me on my aim. But neither Gerard, Megan nor I are paid to place ourselves in harm’s way. You are.”

His light green eyes seemed to dance with humor, though she suspected it was a little forced. He leaned a couple of inches into her personal space. “Why, Lynley Marshall, I do believe you’re actually worried about my safety.”

She couldn’t help it, the man’s voice, his scent, even his body language made her want him closer. And that made her uncomfortable, and she felt it settle into her expression.

He backed off, and she couldn’t miss a twitch of his lips, a creasing beside his eyes, as if he could read her and was suppressing yet another teasing retort. Why did he confuse her so?

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice suddenly gentle. “I’m being a typical man. We like to beat our chests and rumble like apes, but some of us truly appreciate the caring tenderness of a woman concerned for our safety.”

To her surprise, it seemed that his eyes said, “Especially this woman.” But of course, she’d been intentionally alone for so long she wasn’t in the habit of reading a man’s mind.

Did he realize how fear completely controlled her? She feared for the friendship that had begun between them so easily. Somewhere the lines blurred, and the energy between them caught fire like a barn ablaze, and that fire threatened the safety of their comfortable friendship. Even if that weren’t the case, however, she would still fear for his safety, especially considering the surprising dangers that had erupted in Jolly Mill these past years.

“You’re not a typical man, John,” she said softly. “Not at all.”

And then it was her turn to suppress a smile when he blinked, lips parted. Though he didn’t move away from her, something about him withdrew ever so subtly.

That had been their unspoken dance lately. Move forward, step back, keep time with music they couldn’t actually hear, but that controlled them much more than either of them would have liked.

She knew about John’s obvious unwillingness to reconnect after the great loss he’d experienced when his wife died. His cousin Emma had told Lynley all about it. A man like him didn’t recover from a true love like that as quickly as people expected him to. It only drew her to him more profoundly.

But she needed John now, and she needed this dance of romance to not get in the way. They both needed their wits about them.

John touched the tip of her nose with his finger and grinned into her eyes with such warmth and acceptance, she felt reassured.

“I know how to protect myself, Lynley. A fella doesn’t last long as a policeman if he can’t do that.”

Breathing as deeply and deliberately as she could, she nodded. She felt like a needy woman who couldn’t function without a man, and that was one thing she’d fought against since she walked in on her father and one of his many lady friends when she was a young teen. That day she’d vowed that this was the one path of her mother’s that she didn’t want to follow.

And then she vowed it again after her divorce from the man who turned out just like Daddy.

John got up and reached for the knife she’d held earlier and placed it into her hand. He locked the deck door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Data wandered back toward Lynley and trilled at her, his serious golden eyes staring into hers as if he knew. Yes, as Dean Koontz had once pointed out in a novel, cats knew things. Data knew more than most, and he had an extensive language that she wished she could understand. He howled when she cried, and she could tell from the tone of his trill that he was worried about her.

John checked the rest of the house with weapon in hand. Lynley sank into the love seat. Data jumped onto her lap. He nudged her chin with his cold, wet nose and his purr gave her a tiny sense of normalcy in this otherwise treacherous morning—as she believed it was meant to.

She buried her face in a white splotch of his black-and-white fur, and came up with a nose filled with cat hair. “Oh, Data, I love you dearly, but right now I wish God had placed you into the body of a Rottweiler.”

But people also killed big, scary animals to get to their victims. Who knew what a crazy person would do?

John returned with his weapon holstered once more. “I’ll call the hospital, let them know what’s happening.”

“Why?”

“To cancel your shifts for the rest of the week.”

“No. We get some tough characters in the ER, and we have tough men who can handle them. Our guys work out.”

His eyes narrowed just a tad. Was that a hint of jealousy she saw there? “So do I.” His voice was almost too quiet. “But why risk an unnecessary attack?”

“Finding another nurse to cover for me—”

“Can be done more easily than hiring extra security to protect you and everyone around you.”

She didn’t feel like arguing. “Where’s Mom? Isn’t she supposed to be here by now?”

John hesitated and glanced at his watch. “Gerard would have called if there was a problem.” But he didn’t sound as sure as she’d have liked.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to breathe deeply until Mom came walking through the front door, safe and secure.

Christmas celebrations had just come to a nasty stop, and Lynley had no idea what the New Year would bring for Jolly Mill, Missouri.

* * *

John watched Lynley with the practiced eye of his profession. It was a good thing he’d learned the hard lessons on the police force: things about keeping his frightened thoughts to himself, keeping his emotions from showing on his face—most of the time—and keeping a steady hand on his weapon. Controlling his behavior didn’t help with his usual gut response to stress, but knowing he could be fit and ready to face what came at him did help him feel safer. Not cocky, just competent.

He stepped out to the glass doors once more to study what he could of the forest to the east of the house. Still no movement. Unfortunately, no one else lived to the east of the house, but someone from the village below, across the creek, might have seen someone here earlier. This afternoon he or Gerard could make some calls, and he was sure Kirstie would want to contact her friends.

He thanked God for Gerard Vance, ex-cop, guardian of those in need. The big man had about twenty pounds on John—mostly muscle—and a couple of years on him, as well, which helped in situations that required experience. John hadn’t realized, when he moved here and took this job in the summer, how difficult it would be to handle the job without backup. He missed his colleagues in Sikeston.

John glanced over his shoulder to the love seat, where Lynley allowed Data, Kirstie’s black-and-white ten-ton cat, to maul her into a furry mess. Focusing on everyday things gave him peace. Apparently, it comforted Lynley, as well, because she simply brushed the fur from her face and continued to snuggle. The cat actually had his front legs wrapped around Lynley’s neck. John could hear a loud purr from where he stood.

It had been over ten minutes since John called Gerard. Like Lynley, he’d expected to see them here five minutes ago. The homeless rehab center was within walking distance from here—barely a block and a half uphill.

He left Lynley cuddling the cat and took the stairs to the upper hallway, where he could get a better perspective of the hillside to the east. Something caught his attention—movement below, near the creek, too far away to get a good look, or even to tell if it was male or female, only that the figure was an adult.

Before he could turn to hunt down Kirstie’s binoculars to get a better look at the figure, several people came running out of the center up on the hillside above the house, and he saw a child tripping around the winter leaves, far above the mystery person.

He called Gerard once more, feeling overly dependent as he did so.

“Sorry, John,” Gerard said when he answered. “We had us a little emergency.” There were chattering voices, a crying child, shouting in the background.

“Let me guess. A child hunt?”

“You’ve been watching. Yep, one of the little ones wandered outside, and his parents couldn’t find him for a few minutes. He’s probably not going to do that again. Gave us a fright, though, especially me, in light of your own little scare.”

For a moment, John pondered that. “Got a question for you, but don’t take offense.” With as few words as possible, John filled Gerard in on the situation, then said, “You don’t think anyone from your center could—”

“You’re wondering if your culprit might be someone from here.”

“It crossed my mind. I’m looking for any and all answers at this point.”

“I’ve considered it. I’m not omniscient, John. No matter how many background checks I give these people before we bring them here, it’s always possible someone could slip through. When I convinced the town council to let us set up shop here, I gave my word that no harm would come to the town because of it. I’ll do anything to keep that promise.”

“That child wouldn’t have chanced to spot someone else in the woods, do you think?”

“Why? Did you see someone else?”

“Sure did.”

“Hold on, let me ask.”

John waited while he heard a conflagration of voices in the background. Most of the homeless people who came to the rehab center were city folk, and they didn’t realize that the woods in Missouri were much safer than most city streets.

Gerard spoke again. “Poor kid was lost and was looking for our building. He wasn’t paying attention.”

“Out of curiosity, am I the only person in Jolly Mill who didn’t know about the inheritance until Lynley told me a few minutes ago?”

“Probably, but that’s not surprising.” The noise in the background suddenly disappeared, and a door shut. Gerard had stepped outside. “Here in our town, most folks still see honor in police authority, so gossiping to you would be kind of like gossiping to a preacher. They’d be ashamed. But sharing tantalizing information with the folks here at the center just means they’re being accepted by some of the townsfolk. Kind of encouraging, actually.”

“So you’re saying everyone up at the center knew about Kirstie’s supposed inheritance.”

“I know some of them do, some of those who’ve been around longer, but they also know that her money was given to us to help them, and she’s treated like a queen around here. That’s one reason I don’t think we need to worry about our people.”

“Unless some of them believe she still has money. Before you come down, would you have your staff start asking the residents if any of them saw someone outside Kirstie’s house earlier this morning?”

“You don’t want to keep this thing quiet, then.”

“At first I thought it would be a good idea, but something I said to Lynley got me to thinking. We’re going to have to ask questions, anyway, and you know word’s going to spread quickly. Why not use that to our advantage?”

“You’re a good man, John Russell. I don’t care what everyone else says about you.”

John rolled his eyes. “Thanks. You’re a real pal.”

“We can’t keep a sneeze secret around here, anyway, so why not put all that extra hot air to good use?”

“Is Kirstie with you now?”

“She’s just inside, helping corral the others and putting some finishing touches on food prep.”

“Does she know her daughter needs her?”

“Not yet. We’ll be down as soon as I task Megan with the questioning.”

“Then let me warn you, Lynley intends to work her two shifts at the hospital this week.”

Gerard grunted. “Not good.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m getting ready to grab Kirstie and get her home.”

John waited and listened as Gerard Vance reentered a noisy room—the kitchen, from the sound of it, the talk and chatter of rehab residents—and heard Vance’s soothing voice as he asked Kirstie to follow him. To her credit, she didn’t ask a single question.

“You got it, boss. I don’t like battering chicken, anyway. Just let me wash my hands.”

John couldn’t help smiling when he heard Kirstie Marshall’s voice in the background. Lynley’s mother had the light laughter of a happy teen, and though her life had been filled with hard knocks, she looked forward to the future, and seldom grieved the past.

“She’s washing up,” Vance told John. “We’ll be there in five unless another child wanders off.”

“You’re parked in the garage?”

“Sure. Don’t worry, I’ll get her into the truck without going outside, and I’ll lock the doors. This one’s got you worried, my friend.”

“And Lynley.”

“Yep.” Vance cleared his throat. “You do know how...um...strong-willed Lynley is.”

“I’ve had time to figure that out.”

“You can’t let her run this investigation.”

“No, and I’ll do what it takes to keep her from working those shifts this week. They’re back-to-back, and so she’d be staying in her apartment in Springfield to avoid the hour-long drive each way.”

“Not good. Do what you can.”

John powered off and glanced around the deck, then peered into the forest to the east of the house. No one lingered down below now. As Lynley said, someone could be watching from anywhere, but he didn’t get the feeling of being watched. Not that he was going to place Lynley’s safety into the fettered hands of emotion.

He heard a soft rumble, and realized Lynley had slid open the glass door below him. Data darted outside, his bright white-and-black coat likely drawing the attention of endangered squirrels, birds and mice anywhere within a quarter-mile radius, since it was an unseasonably warm day. Lynley’s urgent call to the playful cat went unheeded.

That cat was the darling of Kirstie’s life, next in line to Lynley, of course. No one took Lynley’s place. John could see why. Despite his initial resistance to a growing friendship with a living, breathing woman, Lynley’s calm determination and gentle spirit had wrapped themselves around him from the first time he met her, and he’d been unable get her image out of his mind when he closed his eyes at night. She was first in his thoughts when he woke up the next morning.

Though he was firm in his determination to remain single, this threat against her life both enraged and stunned him with the depth of caring he’d developed for her in these past months. It wasn’t what he’d intended. He’d moved here to be close to his cousins—plus the challenge of being the police chief and only policeman in a town of eight hundred had been difficult to refuse.

He saw Data climb to the upper deck and sniff around the railing—as if he picked up an unusual scent, perhaps? John tapped the window. The strikingly beautiful cat stood outside the glass, and his gold-foil eyes, white face and pink nose with a black splotch on his head made John smile. He’d never been a cat person, but these cats of Kirstie’s had shown him anything could happen.

He stepped into Kirstie’s library, where she kept a list of birds she’d seen in the area. Beside the list were her binoculars. He took them back with him to the door and studied the woods, from the rehab center to the creek and beyond. No figure was in sight.

Sliding open the upper deck door to lure Data back inside, he watched for Vance’s truck to come around the curve above the house. As soon as the cat darted in, John shut and locked the door, eager to get back downstairs to reassure Lynley that Data was fine. What was it about having friends in physical proximity that made one feel all would be well?

He knew better. If he let down his guard, no one would be safe. He followed Data to the stairway and saw Lynley coming up, her dark brown eyes filled with relief when she saw Data.

“You little scamp. You just did that to show me you could.” She flipped his jauntily curling tail as he raced past her, then gave John a smile. “Thanks. I don’t want Mom worrying about two of us at the same time.”

John swallowed hard. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t be distracted by a sweet smile or a deep gaze from dark brown eyes. How long had he been lying to himself about her, trying to convince himself they were good friends. Buddies. Nothing more?

This was the moment he must see himself as nothing but her protector.

Sandra would likely be cheering right now if she knew he’d begun to feel a shift in his mind-set, but he was not cheering. Something about losing a wife to death left a man feeling married and wanting to be faithful. Yes, it also left him lonely, and he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. In fact, he’d expected to recover from his loss long before now. It wasn’t until the fourth year after her death that he realized there would be no recovery. Life would continue whether he wanted it to or not, but he’d lost a vital part of himself when Sandra died, and contrary to what everyone had tried to tell him, time was no healer.

He just couldn’t move forward. Not now. Maybe not ever.