Читать книгу Protector's Honor - Kit Wilkinson - Страница 11

“One man was tall, thin…blondish. The other heavyset. No taller than me,” Tabitha said to the policemen.

Detective Jon Greenwood sat across from her, rubbing his gray beard. His partner, Hines, stood nearby taking copious notes. They had joined her just minutes after Rory’s departure, exhausting her with their detailed questions. If the day had ended right then, it wouldn’t have been soon enough.

“And how tall is that?” Hines asked.

“I’m five-seven,” she said.

The taller detective looked up from his little white pad as if to check her measurements. “Five-seven. Good. Keep going.” He returned to his note-taking.

Tabitha sighed. “The shorter man was bald. Or maybe his head was shaved, and I think he had a scar on his face.” She paused and looked at the deep red marks on her wrists where he’d held her. Her mind flooded with old images—images of another man, one she’d known most of her life. He, too, had held her arms and made them raw. The memory unsettled her. “I’m sorry—I can’t remember any more.”

Tabitha banked her hands in her lap to control the trembling. She closed her eyes tight as if to squeeze out the unwelcome thoughts, but her focus was gone. The only idea she could hold on to was getting home.

Detective Hines stuck his pen behind his ear and took the seat next to her. “Try to relax, Ms. Beaumont. The details will come back to you.” He laid the pad aside and removed his jacket. “You’re shivering. Here. Take this.”

“Thank you.” She placed the tan sport coat across her chest and tucked her arms underneath.

“You mentioned the men wanted something from you,” Hines said. “Any idea what?”

“I don’t—” She shook her head. “I don’t think they said exactly.”

“But they named your brother?” Greenwood asked.

“I thought so. But my mind was on Max anyway since he’s been coaching me for the race.”

“And your brother’s a dentist?”

She nodded. “Yes. In Richmond.”

“We’ll need his number and address.”

“Sure. He’ll get a kick out it if you call him.” She rattled off the numbers while Hines recorded them in his notebook.

“Hope I didn’t miss much.” Rory appeared at the table. Greenwood and Hines gave him hearty handshakes.

“We miss your pop,” Greenwood relayed. “The new chief is good, but he’s no James Farrell.” Hines nodded in agreement.

Tabitha’s heart sank as she watched Rory’s jaw tighten. His dad had been chief of police. No wonder everyone fussed over his absence.

Stepping around the detectives, he pushed toward her.

She returned Hines’s coat and checked Rory’s arms for her clothing. But his hands were empty. “You couldn’t get into my room, could you?”

“No. I got in.” Rory turned his head so that the detectives could hear. “I went up with Terri Patton, the manager. When we got there, the door was already open and most of your things were—I’m sorry, Tabitha—they were missing.”

Tabitha’s sick stomach and throbbing head intensified. She could barely swallow. “Room two-zero-seven? Are you sure?”

Rory nodded. “The room was ransacked. Basically cleaned out.” He turned back to the detectives. “Terri’s waiting for you to take a look.”

“Sure. I think Ms. Beaumont could use a break now, anyway. You two stay here,” Greenwood instructed, as he turned for the inn. Hines followed.

“My car,” Tabitha whispered as she leaped from her seat.

The ice pack tumbled to the ground and she hopped on her good leg toward the edge of the tent. The idea of being trapped on that mountain, not able to get home, suffocated her.

“Ms. Beaumont, don’t trouble yourself. We’ll check it out,” Greenwood called after her.

Tabitha didn’t stop. She slipped past Rory’s grasp and continued until she reached the grassy area in front of the parking. If someone had taken almost everything from her room, then they could have the keys to her car. She searched through the hubbub of activity, scanning the small gravel lot.

“Is it there?” Rory’s voice sounded behind her low and stern.

She shook her head then turned to face the three men who had moved in behind her. Biting her lower lip to hold her tears at bay, she hobbled to the nearest table for support.

“A blue Toyota 4Runner. North Carolina plates.” She took in a ragged breath. Then to Hines, she gave a full description of her SUV. Afterward, she glanced across the lot again, but the car was gone. She had nothing—no money, no phone, no car. She could feel what little bit of inner strength she still possessed fading away.

Oh, Lord, why is this happening? Please give me Your strength.

As the detectives headed up the stairs to the inn, Tabitha hopped back to her table still trying desperately not to cry. Rory moved beside her but didn’t offer his help. She propped her foot up and replaced the ice pack, wishing he’d leave her alone. She felt too aware of him.

“Shouldn’t you go with them?” she asked. “Since you’re an agent and all that.” Please go, so I can think and not cry in front of you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. His frown deepened as he took the seat beside her. His eyes, the ones that had warmed her a few minutes earlier, had turned cold.

He leaned back in the chair. With a slow deliberate move, he folded his arms across his broad chest. “So, Ms. Beaumont, it seems some pretty serious people are after you. I think you should tell me why. I mean, up until now you’ve been fairly calm, but you find out your car’s gone and you kind of lose it. Why is that? Why don’t you tell me what’s in your car that those men want so badly? After all, I have a right to know what I risked my life for this morning. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“My car? I don’t have anything in my car. I just—” Tabitha stopped midsentence. Why was she explaining herself? Just because he helped her didn’t mean she had to share her deepest fears with him. They had nothing to do with what had happened today. She took in a deep breath. “Are you interrogating me?”

Rory stretched his neck and glared at the roof of the tent. “Of course not.” His voice came out in a growl. “I don’t interrogate victims.”

“What a relief.” She attempted a smile, but it was pointless. The man had transformed into cop mode and apparently wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d probed her for answers. Too bad she had none. She chewed on her bottom lip.

Rory rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Tabitha, I know you’re frightened. More so than you’re letting on and I want to help you. Really, I do. But I can’t if you don’t tell me what you know.”

Pressing her lips together, Tabitha inhaled slowly, determined to answer him with a steady voice. “I promise you I don’t know what’s going on. I have no idea what those men are after. If I did, I would tell you. I’m just praying my way through this. Otherwise I’m sure I’d be completely hysterical by now.”

His brow lifted. “I saw Hines’s note about someone named Max. Is he involved in this?”

Tabitha frowned. She didn’t like the hint of suspicion in his tone. Did he really think she had something to hide? “Is this what you do as a federal officer? Intimidate people who are scared? I’m not impressed.”

Tears continued to press at the corner of her eyes. She lifted her hand to her forehead to scratch an imaginary itch and shield herself from his hard gaze.

“Look,” he said, “I’m trying to help. I’m not intending to upset you. This is what I do. I’m an investigator. Now, tell me about Max B. I read that name in the detective’s notes. Is that Bristow? Is that the person you booked a room for? This could be important.”

Tabitha narrowed her eyes on him. He’d obviously done more than check her room inside the hotel.

“Come on, Tabitha. Talk to me. Let me help.”

“Fine,” she mumbled. “Bristow and Max are two different people.”

“Okay. Let’s start with Max. Who is Max?”

“Max B. is Max Beaumont. My brother.” Tabitha glanced down. She did not want to repeat the entire story. But when she looked back at Rory, it was obvious that small dose of information wouldn’t hold him. “I thought the men who attacked me mentioned him. But I’m not sure. In fact, the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it seems. I think maybe I imagined it.”

Knots tightened in her stomach. Each time she mentioned her brother, she felt more and more like she might be getting him into trouble. But why? No way her brother had anything to do with those thugs on the mountain. That was impossible.

Rory’s look softened a bit. “How did they mention him?”

“I don’t know. They wanted something from me. Something Max gave me…I think that’s what they said.” Tabitha put her quivering hand to her temple. “I’m so tired. I know you’re trying to help but I already went through this with the detectives.”

“I’m sorry.” He slid a glass of water across the table. “Here, drink some water. You look pale again.”

She took a quick drink while he scratched his head and furrowed his brow. She pushed the glass back.

“Better?” he whispered.

She shrugged, noting his expression had lightened. A slight grin curved his lips upward. He reached over the table and touched her hand softly.

Tabitha gaped. How did he do that? Was it part of the interrogation technique? A method to disarm and relax her? Or did he unknowingly morph from tough cop to charmer? Either way, she didn’t like it, especially because it seemed to be working. She pulled her hand away.

“So, Max gave you something?” Rory continued.

“No. That’s just it. He didn’t.”

Rory frowned. “Okay. I know this seems silly, but it might be important. Now Max is your brother so I’m sure he gave you something at some point. How about in the past year? Anything?”

“A root canal,” she said drily, pointing at her back tooth.

“Cute.”

“You said anything. Anyway, it’s true. He’s a dentist. It was a few weeks ago and that’s the last time I saw him.”

“How about Christmas and your birthday? Don’t you exchange presents?”

Tabitha rolled her eyes. “For my birthday, he gave me a gift certificate to a spa. I used it immediately. For Christmas, an ugly sweater which I exchanged for a handbag. Max got married this year. I haven’t really seen much of him lately.”

“When was that?”

“The wedding? Two months ago.” Her mouth twitched.

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

She shrugged. “Max is happy. Karin, his wife, has been hard to get to know. Max and I were really close before. It’s an adjustment for me.”

Rory licked his lower lip and leaned his large body over his knees. “Tabitha, why did you run back to your car like that?”

A tear dropped to her cheek. Her hand moved quickly to brush it aside. “It was nothing. I just want to go home. I wanted my car to be there so I knew I could get home. I don’t like being…trapped.”

“Trapped?” Rory sat up straight in his chair and scratched his ear. “Sounds like a story there.”

“Not one for today,” she said, praying that he’d let it go.

He nodded. His mouth held a gentle smile. “You don’t need to worry. We’ll get you home.”

Tabitha wasn’t sure what he meant by we but it sounded like more help from him and that she did not want. What if he changed back to supercop? Or worse, charmed her again with those electric eyes? “You know, if I had a phone, I could call a friend to pick me up. That is, if you’re finished grilling me.”

A full smile covered his face. “I’m finished. For now.” He felt around his waistline. “I don’t have my phone, either. Here.”

Before she could say anything, he’d scooped her up in his arms and was weaving his way through the tables, heading for the inn.

“You don’t need to carry me! I’m not paraly—” She swallowed the rest of the word, aware of how close she was to his face and neck. Of the strong masculine scent which emanated there.

“Relax,” he said. “You must be the tensest person I’ve ever met.”

Oh, yeah. Relax. Sure. Her breath stuck in her throat, her senses on overload.

“Please, put me down,” she whispered.

“You can’t walk. I’m trying to help.”

I don’t want any more help. I want to go home. Tabitha thought she might burst if she didn’t get away from him. New tears flooded the corners of her eyes.

As he turned up the stairs, her head jostled back to his shoulder. “That’s it. Just relax,” he suggested, his soft breath drifting over her neck. “I’ve got you.”

And with his whisper, her tears won their battle, escaping her eyes, flowing out hard and heavy, in narrow, salty streams all the way to her chin and onto Rory’s shirt.