Читать книгу Marked By The Marshal - Julie Anne Lindsey - Страница 11

Kara’s pulse pounded in her ears. She pressed a hand to her constricting chest and willed herself to think. The man at the park had been big. He’d had at least fifty pounds on her, and she was out of shape. If he managed to get through the door, no one would see. At least at the park there were a hundred witnesses. Here, alone in her darkened house... Every self-defense move she’d ever learned was gone. Vanished. She could only think of how to escape, keep Casey safe and get away if the man tried to force his way inside.

Heavy footfalls clomped up her porch steps, vibrating through her soul. Where was that extra patrolman West had promised her? West! Kara pulled the phone from her pocket and dialed the personal number he’d left with her earlier.

She prayed softly against the phone receiver as the knocking began.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. She pressed her back against the warm wooden door for strength and willed West to answer his darn phone.

The knocks behind her came lightly at first, cautiously, and grew steadily more insistent. Her interior lights were already off. Maybe whoever was on her porch would assume no one was home and go away. The nagging possibility she was being paranoid began to creep in. She hadn’t gotten a clean look at the man crossing her street. It could be anyone. Maybe she was overreacting. Then again, whoever was out there at this hour was probably up to no good. Man from the park, or someone else. Didn’t matter. It was far too late for visiting. Besides, who could it even be? No man had climbed her steps in a year. Figurative or otherwise.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. The call connected and Kara gasped. Tears of relief blurred her vision.

“Garrett,” West answered, a bubble of laughter in his voice. Country music mingled with sounds of a crowd in the background.

“West?” she whispered, cupping her hands protectively around the phone. Not wanting to be heard by the man outside her door. “There’s someone on my porch and I’m freaking out.”

The background sounds grew silent. “Kara?” West’s voice was sharp now, followed by the distinct snick of a closing door. “What’s going on?”

She swallowed a yelp as the knocking grew into pounding against her spine. “Someone’s here.” The quiver troubling her limbs infiltrated her voice.

Kara swung her attention to the stairwell. She could be upstairs in twenty seconds, and at the backdoor with Casey in thirty more. Could the man on her porch break down the door in less time than that? What if he predicted her move and was at the back door when she got there?

“Sit tight,” West said with utter Garrett-like confidence. “I’m sending someone to you. Give me five minutes to route him your way.”

“Okay.” Her darting gaze landed on the hearth. “I might hit him with a fireplace poker.”

“Tell you what. Anyone comes through that door without an invitation, and you’ve got my support in doing whatever you want to him,” he huffed. “He’s not responding.”

“Your deputy?” Kara squeaked. Could the man on her porch have taken out the patrolling deputy?

The knocking stalled, and a new kind of fear clawed through her. At least while he was knocking, she knew where he was. A shadow fell over her front window and the silhouette of a man came into view. “Kara?”

The voice of a ghost permeated her glass. It twisted her core and squeezed her lungs. A strangled noise rose from her parted lips.

“Oh, my goodness.” Slowly, she moved away from the door, eyes wide, jaw heavy.

“What?” West barked.

“Kara? Open up,” the voice continued, more pleading than stern despite the sharp edge to his words.

She turned the deadbolt and opened the door with bated breath.

“Kara!” West hollered through the forgotten phone in her hand.

“It’s you,” she breathed.

Ryder Garrett, the ghost of love lost, stood before her in an arch of porch lighting. Hat in hands, he dipped his chin in greeting. “Hello, Kara.”

* * *

RYDER REACHED FOR her phone and spoke briefly to his brother in acronyms and grunts before returning the phone to Kara.

Kara batted dazed eyes at Ryder before inviting him into their formerly shared home. He accepted with a nod and tried not to wonder what her expression meant, exactly.

She worked her mouth closed, still openly staring at him.

He tried not to return the favor, which wasn’t easy. Kara was striking. He hadn’t blown her out of proportion in his mind. She really was the kind of woman who could walk down the street and cause a ten-truck pileup. Her pale blue eyes were lined in thick, curled lashes. Her cheeks and lips were naturally pink, though at the moment they were both slightly white from shock. He ached to kiss the line of freckles spilled over her nose. The ones she tried desperately to hide with makeup when they’d gone out for special occasions. He curled his fingers at his side, reminding himself not to touch her. He couldn’t do that anymore. It was a privilege he’d lost long ago.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally snapping back to life. She twisted the deadbolt and turned the lock on her doorknob before checking the window.

Did she really think any of that was necessary with him there?

He scanned the vaguely familiar room. Unlike Kara, the home was much different than he remembered. A giant mirror graced the wall above the fireplace where his massive mounted trout had once hung. Their engagement photos and candid snapshots had been replaced with selfies of Kara and an infant. He shook his head. The moment was surreal. It was his home, but it wasn’t. She was his girl, but she wasn’t. And the baby. Well, she hadn’t existed to him until three hours ago.

Kara cleared her throat. “Well?”

Ryder forced a comforting smile. “I heard you had a bad experience at the park today.” Ignore my poor manners for showing up at this hour, unannounced. He’d dialed her number a dozen times on his drive back to town, but couldn’t bring himself to hit Call. What would he have said? What if she’d told him not to come?

Her nose wrinkled. “West told you about the park? Why?”

“He was worried. Thought I might be, too.”

“Why?” she repeated. A flash of emotion passed over her stunned expression.

“Maybe you could tell me more about what happened today.” He inched toward the kitchen. “We can sit down. Go over the details.”

“Okay.” She ghosted in front of him. Flipping on lights and starting up the coffee maker. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

Kara kept her back to him as she prepped the mugs. Her head shook infinitesimally, and he was thankful not to know what she was thinking.

He didn’t mind the view, either. Being back in this place with her was a lot for him to process. He hadn’t anticipated the intensity of it. The sight of their old things. The sound of her grandma’s too-loudly-ticking wall clock, and the scents of that sugar-and-spice candle she loved so much. He smiled. In all the years they’d been together, Kara never let their—her—personal supply run out. One year for Christmas he’d bought her a case of those candles to be mischievous, but she’d been so pleased that they’d made love right there under the tree. His attention drifted to the exact spot, and heat rose in his chest.

The coffee maker chugged steam into the air, drawing his attention back to the kitchen.

Ryder blew out a long breath and refocused on Kara, but that didn’t help clean up his thoughts. And never mind the fact that Kara was wearing a tank top and shorts set that clung distractingly to her new, curvier...everything.

She spun on him suddenly. A frown creased her brow.

He jerked his gaze to her eyes. “What?” Caught ogling. Real nice. A true gentleman.

She shook her head again. “West told you that some creep harassed me this morning, and you what? Drove straight here from wherever you live now?”

He nodded slowly. “Cincinnati.” That almost summed it up. That and the fact that he believed her harasser to be a murdering psychopath, but there was no reason to say so until he was sure. For the moment, Ryder was enjoying this strange trip into his past. It was nice being there with her. Nostalgic.

Unfortunately, once Kara learned it was probably him who’d put her and her baby in danger, she’d want to coldcock him with that coffeepot.

She made her way to the table, two mugs in hand. The faint scent of cinnamon drifted in the bitter steam. He’d almost forgotten the way she added the spice to her grounds.

“Thanks.” He took a seat and waited while she did the same. “Can you tell me everything you told West about the man, plus anything you might’ve forgotten to mention, but thought of later?”

“Sure, but it’s probably nothing. I only called because the park was so busy, and I knew I’d never forgive myself if the guy tried to take one of those other children and I hadn’t spoken up.”

Ryder’s shoulders relaxed by a fraction. “You think he was a child abductor?” Timothy Sand was many awful things, but pedophile wasn’t one of them. Maybe he’d been wrong about this.

“I don’t know. He leered at me pretty good,” she said, looking fairly ill.

“What made you think the man might try to take a child? Did he try to take your baby?”

“No.” Kara sipped her coffee. “He asked if he could hold her, but I’d already told him we needed to leave. It was really weird. Then, he put his hand on the stroller for a minute when I tried to go, but he relented, and he never threatened us. I just had this feeling.” She fisted a hand against her gut. “You know?”

He did. Instinct had told her that man was dangerous, so he probably was. “Start from the beginning.”

She set her cup down and stared into it. Slowly, her lids slid shut, and she began to recount the exchange in unbelievable detail. A hat had hidden the man’s hair and shaded his eyes, but she was certain they were both brown. He was clean-shaven, and she’d noticed acne scars along his cheeks. There was a tattoo on his left wrist. A single black heart.

“Observant.” Pride bloomed in Ryder’s chest. They used to test one another about the little details around them. She’d enjoyed the game more than he did because despite his flashy badge, she’d usually won. She claimed being a kindergarten teacher made paying attention to the details especially necessary.

Kara opened her eyes and lanced him with her careful stare. “I’m glad you’re here, Ryder. You look good, and I’m glad to see you this way again.”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant by “this way again.” He knew. Healthy. Rested. Fed. The last time she’d seen him, he was a shell of himself, obsessed with the one that had literally gotten away. He didn’t eat or sleep in those days, and he was pretty light on the showers and speech. He’d spent every hour fixated on Timothy Sand and his capture. Ryder raised his mug and blew across the fog of steam. “Thanks. I took your advice. Got some help.”

Agency-mandated help, but still.

He’d lost control and laid a fist into the new kid who’d brought Sand in but failed to keep him in jail because of the flimsy case he’d prepared. Ryder had been temporarily relieved of his badge and sidearm after that. It was the lowest point of his career. The lowest point of his life had been two months earlier, when Kara told him to pull it together or leave.

The suspension eventually opened his eyes to how far he’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Mandatory sessions with an in-house therapist had helped him get his life back together. By that time, it was too late to come home to Kara. His mind was clear, and he finally understood how much he’d hurt her. She deserved better than that.

“You ever catch that guy?” she asked. “What was his name—Timothy Rand?”

“Sand,” Ryder corrected. “Timothy Sand. No. I never did.”

She twisted her mouth into a sad smile. As if to say, It was all for nothing, then. A broken engagement. Two broken hearts.

Ryder cleared his thickening throat. “How about you? You’re stunning as ever. Motherhood’s been good to you, I see.”

“Thanks.” She dropped her attention away from him, and a blush darkened her cheeks. When she dragged her gaze back to his, she smiled. “She might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I never expected I’d be a single mother, but she’s worth it, and I know we’ll be okay.”

Kara was strong. He’d never let the kindergarten-teacher front fool him. She could command armies if needed. “And the father?” Ryder forced the last word through his teeth. No one who abandoned his woman and unborn child deserved a title like that. But what else could he call him. Whoever he was.

“Gone.” She pulled in and released a long, steady breath. There was no remorse in her face, no anger. She was a better person than Ryder. The man hadn’t done a thing to him, and he wanted to punch his face.

“Does he check in from time to time or...”

“No,” she interrupted. “Like I said. He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And he was. Because if the guy was here, he could hit him.

“Thanks.”

West had it right on this one. Kara was better off without a man who’d leave her like that. Ryder settled back in his chair, stretching booted feet beneath the table. He and Kara were about as caught up as they could get without unloading the massive elephant from his pocket. He set his phone on the table and flipped quickly through the photos he’d downloaded after speaking with West tonight. “I’ve got a photo of a fugitive I’d like you to look at.”

Kara stiffened. He could almost see the lightbulb flicking on as fear bleached her freckled cheeks. “You think the man who talked to me is a federal fugitive?”

“It might be nothing.” He forced a lazy smile. “Maybe your guy was a run-of-the-mill weirdo.”

She lifted crossed fingers in a show of sarcasm.

“Let’s find out.”

Kara raised her chin in agreement. “Okay.” She opened her hand to him. “Let’s see it, then.”

Ryder turned the little screen to face her. “Do you recognize him?” The photo of Sand was nearly two years old, and the most recent surveillance the US Marshals had. He wore a bushy beard and full head of hair in the picture, nothing like the description she’d just given him.

“That’s him.”

Ryder’s gaze jumped to hers. “You sure?” His heart pumped strong and hard against his ribs. “This is the man who bothered you today? You said he was clean-shaven and wore a hat. How can you tell with the big beard and wild hair?” He even had sunglasses in the gas station photo.

Kara set one pale pink fingernail on the grainy image. “There.”

Ryder turned the screen to him for a closer look.

The photo showed Timothy crossing the parking lot, legs extended in midstep, tucking cash into his wallet. One wrist in full view of the camera, with a small black spot marking him for the marshal.

She leveled Ryder with a no-nonsense look. “I’m willing to bet you’ll see that’s a heart if you blow up the image. Now, it’s your turn.”

Ryder stared at the photo. Sand didn’t have a tattoo. Did he? If so, he’d gotten it since the last time Ryder had laid eyes on him, and he hadn’t noticed it in this photo until now. Because he hadn’t expected it, the spot had seemed to him like nothing more than a digital blemish, but Kara’s description and the placement of that mark were too coincidental.

Ice rolled through Ryder’s veins. Timothy Sand was in Shadow Point, and he knew who Kara was.

“You want to tell me exactly who that man is?” she asked, arms folded on the table. “And why a federal fugitive whom you’re hunting sought me out in a park bursting with people?”

Ryder pulled in a deep steadying breath. “I can only guess at how to answer that last question.”

“And the first?”

Ryder dropped the phone between them. “This man is Timothy Sand.”