Читать книгу Killer Season - Lara Lacombe - Страница 12
ОглавлениеDammit, she’d been crying.
Nate could tell the minute she opened the door. She walked out with her shoulders back and head held high, her chin thrust upward in defiance and determination. But her eyes gave her away. Red rimmed and slightly swollen, they bore silent witness to her earlier tears.
He turned to follow her, but not before catching a whiff of the bathroom. Oh, honey.
She certainly wasn’t the first person to lose her lunch after such a stressful situation, but he hated that she’d had to experience it.
Joey was still out cold on the floor near the register, so he quickly steered her in the opposite direction, guiding her to walk the outer perimeter of the store on her way to the door. Not only did he want to spare her from seeing her attacker again, it gave him a chance to swipe a bottle of ginger ale as they walked past the refrigerated cases.
“Here you go,” he said, pressing the bottle into her hand with a smile. “Thought you might want this.”
She blushed but met his eyes. “Thanks,” she said softly, her mouth turning up at the corner. “Guess I wasn’t as quiet in there as I’d hoped.”
“Don’t feel bad,” he assured her, reaching up to lay a hand on her shoulder. For some reason, he couldn’t stop touching her, a fact that should have bothered him but didn’t. “I’ve seen 350-pound men cry like a baby after having a gun shoved in their face, so a little vomit is no big deal.”
She stared at the bottle for a few seconds, then shrugged and twisted off the cap.
“Something wrong?”
She shook her head. “I was just thinking that we’re not allowed to eat or drink anything from the store.”
“I’m happy to pay for it,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. She laid a hand on his arm, stopping him.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, giving him a small smile. “After the night I’ve had, I think the store can donate a soda to make me feel better.”
“Sounds fair to me,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back to urge her forward again. He wanted to get her out of the store and away from her attacker as soon as possible. He could just make out the faint wail of a siren, which meant the ambulance was on its way. Fiona didn’t need to be here when the paramedics loaded Joey onto the stretcher and carted him off to the hospital.
Besides, they needed to take her statement and the sooner the better. He glanced up while they walked, heartened to see surveillance cameras mounted in the ceiling and pointed at the register. Maybe they’d get lucky and there would be footage of the attack—he knew from experience not every security camera was functional.
“Do those work?” He nodded at one of the cameras as they neared the door.
Fiona glanced up, following his gaze. “I think so,” she said, frowning slightly. “I’ve never seen the tapes, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
They made it to the door before Fiona stopped, a stricken look on her face.
“I need to call Ben,” she said, sounding miserable.
Nate felt a pang of jealousy at the mention of another man’s name. Was Ben her husband? Her boyfriend? Why did she sound unhappy at the thought of talking to him? More important, why did it matter so much to him?
“Who’s Ben?” His voice was deceptively neutral, but he held his breath while he waited for her to respond.
“The store owner,” she replied, triggering a wave of relief that had his breath gusting out on a sigh. Fiona shot him a questioning look, which he ignored. He couldn’t explain his reaction to himself, much less to her.
“I can call him,” he offered. “Do you have his number?”
Fiona looked up at him, relief and gratitude shining in her big brown eyes. “You’d do that for me?”
If she kept looking at him like that, he’d do just about anything for her. “It’s probably better if I call him. Part of the job and all.”
She glanced down, and he sensed a shift in her mood. “Everything okay?”
Fiona nodded, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s just...” She trailed off, swallowed hard, then spoke again. “You saved my life tonight,” she said, her voice wobbly. “You kept that man from hurting me.”
Nate shifted, her praise making him uncomfortable. “I was happy to do it. That’s my job. Besides, the fact that you stayed calm kept the situation from escalating out of control.”
She shook her head. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
He frowned, not following her thoughts. “Get what?”
She looked up at him then, her eyes suspiciously bright. “I will never forget you or what you did for me tonight. But I suspect it’s just the latest in a long line of amazing things you’ve done, and you’re so quick to dismiss it as your job. Not many people would have stepped forward like that, but you did. You’re a hero.”
Nate felt his face heat and knew he must be as red as the sirens flashing on the ambulance pulling into the parking lot. “I’m not a hero,” he said, reaching up to tug on his collar. When did it get so warm in here?
The corner of Fiona’s mouth quirked up while she studied him. “The fact that you’re denying it just makes you even more heroic.”
Now it was Nate’s turn to look away. He didn’t know how to explain to her that he’d simply reacted. She was in danger, and he’d stepped forward, wanting only to protect her. That wasn’t heroic—it was instinctive, pure and simple. Heroes recognized danger and stepped forward in spite of it. He hadn’t stopped to consider the danger, but had rushed right in, his only thought keeping Fiona safe. If anything, his lack of discipline could have easily resulted in a tragedy tonight, something he was sure his captain would point out after learning of the situation.
The EMTs entered the store, and he heard the officers tell them where Joey had been shot and how long he’d been out. Fiona heard them, too, her expression turning distant as she listened to the conversation.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”
Considering the man had held a gun to Fiona’s head, Nate really couldn’t care less if he recovered. Knowing Fiona wouldn’t appreciate that response, he merely nodded. “Most likely,” he said. “He got hit in the shoulder, and there wasn’t enough blood for the bullet to have clipped an artery. He’ll be just fine once they get him patched up, and then he’ll get to enjoy all the comforts of the city’s fine facilities.”
She frowned, clearly not buying his casual reply. “He passed out,” she said, raising a brow as if daring him to deny that fact.
Nate shrugged. “It hurts like hell to get shot. Maybe the pain got to him.”
Her face softened when she looked up at him. “You’ve been shot before?”
He inwardly winced, cursing himself for letting that slip. She was looking at him with stars in her eyes again, and he couldn’t bear to mislead her.
“It was my fault,” he told her, needing her to understand. “I was a rookie, and I got caught up in the excitement of making a bust. I didn’t wait for backup, and I walked right into it.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O while she raised her eyebrows. “Where were you shot?”
“In a run-down crack house off Westheimer, over in the projects.”
She gave him a mock glare, her lips twitching as she fought off a smile. “I meant where were you physically injured.” She ran her gaze over his body, searching for a clue. His skin tingled in response, and he found he liked having her eyes on him.
“Grazed my leg,” he said, patting his left thigh. He’d been exceedingly lucky—the perp had been high, which had affected his aim.
“Wow,” she murmured. “Does it still bother you?”
He shook his head. “Not really. It aches a bit, now and then, but only when there’s bad weather coming.”
Fiona gave him a mischievous smile. “You sound like a grandpa.”
Nate narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in an exaggerated sneer. “Just stay off my lawn,” he said, raising his fist in a weak shake.
Fiona laughed at that, her features relaxing for a moment. Warmth spread through his chest at the sight, and he grinned back at her. She deserved a laugh after her night, and he was absurdly proud to have been the one to lighten her mood.
The clicking sound of gurney wheels locking into place told him the EMTs had loaded Joey and were getting ready to leave. Fiona heard it, too, the smile fading from her face while she listened to the men roll out the door.
“So what happens now?”
Steve chose that moment to join them, and he spoke before Nate could reply. “We need to take you down to the station and get your statement.” He held up his arm, indicating Fiona should precede him out the door. “If you’ll come with me, please.”
She frowned slightly. “What about the store owner? I need to call him and let him know what happened here.”
Steve pulled out his notepad and passed it to Fiona. “My partner is staying here to keep the scene secure. You can give him the owner’s number and he’ll call.”
She nodded while she scribbled down a number, but Nate could see the wrinkle between her brows and knew she still wasn’t fully comfortable.
“Why don’t I come along?” he offered. Fiona’s expression lightened, and her apparent relief at his continued company made him want to puff out his chest.
Trying to hide his satisfaction, Nate turned to Steve. “If your partner has things under control here, I could give my statement, as well.”
Steve nodded. “Sounds good. Want to follow us back to the station?”
“Sure.” Nate addressed his next remark to Fiona. “I can drop you back here when we’re done, so you can get your car.”
A faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I’d appreciate that.”
As Nate watched her walk away with Steve, he was forced to admit his motives weren’t entirely altruistic. She needed a ride back to her car, to be sure, but it was the perfect excuse to spend time with her.
And he intended to make the most of it.
* * *
Fiona wrapped her hands around the plastic coffee cup, trying to soak up the weak heat leaching through the sides. She couldn’t stop shivering, despite the warm mugginess of the room. Houston winters weren’t terribly cold, but the heater in this aging municipal building seemed to have only one setting—thermonuclear. It was enough to make the place feel like a muggy swamp. Under normal circumstances, she’d feel bad for the officers forced to work in this humidor. Now, though, she was grateful for the warmth and the coffee, even if it did taste like stale pencil shavings.
On a certain level, she’d always known that working the night shift at a convenience store was a dangerous job. Despite the fact that she spent most of her shift alone, studying at the counter, the clientele who did frequent the store weren’t exactly the most upstanding citizens. To be fair, she saw quite a few shift workers, honest people who stopped in on their way to or from work. Generally speaking, though, those who came around were dancing on the thin edge of trouble.
To her mother’s way of thinking, it had never been a question of if she’d ever get robbed, but when. Christine Sanders had been furious and terrified when Fiona had told her about the job. “I won’t let you work there,” she’d said, drawing herself up in the hospital bed with shaking, painfully thin arms. “I forbid it.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Fiona replied, returning to the bedside with a damp washcloth. She gently laid the cloth across her mother’s forehead, and the lines of pain etched into Christine’s face softened a bit. “It won’t be that busy—hardly anyone needs gas at two in the morning. Besides, I need this job for my research. You don’t need to worry.”
“I do worry.” Her mother’s eyes were bright blue, burning with fever and fear. “Those places get robbed all the time, and they’re going to see you, a pretty young woman working alone. You make an easy target, Fi.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said, smoothing back the thin, wispy strands of hair that hadn’t succumbed to the chemo treatments. “Are you saying you don’t think I can be intimidating?” She narrowed her eyes in a fierce scowl, but her mother only smiled sadly.
“You should pick a different research topic. One that doesn’t have you working in the middle of the night.”
It was a familiar refrain, one her mother had said countless times before. As always, Fiona was at a loss for how to respond. She’d tried several times to explain her research project—studying the effects of shift work on employee mental health—but her mom wasn’t able to look past her job.
“Can’t you just interview people during the day? Or find what you need online?”
Fiona swallowed a sigh. “I am doing that, but this job gives me an opportunity to observe people without them knowing about it. They’re less likely to be on guard, or to tell me what they think I want to hear.”
Christine only frowned. “I’m not going to stop worrying about you. But I am glad you’ve found something that will keep you occupied after I’m gone.”
Fiona rubbed her chest, the memory of her mom’s words aggravating the now-permanent ache behind her breastbone.
A late-in-life “miracle baby,” Fiona was an only child. Her father, a police officer, had been killed when she was ten. He was shot while responding to a domestic disturbance call, and while the Houston police department had rallied to support Fiona and her mother, they couldn’t fill the void left by her dad.
The loss of her father made Fiona feel even closer to her mother. “It’s you and me, kid,” Christine liked to say. “Together, we can get through anything.”
And for thirteen years, they had. Until that unusually cold March afternoon, when Christine’s doctor had called to tell her there was an abnormality with her latest mammogram.
Fiona had been twenty-three when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. What she hadn’t known—what the doctors hadn’t been able to predict—was that it would take her mother five long, agonizing years to die. Fiona had worked a string of part-time jobs while acting as a caregiver, an exhausting schedule that brought home just enough money to pay her tuition and stay afloat. Being a clerk at the convenience store was the best-paying job she’d had yet, which was why she’d decided to stay on after her mother died. She could go to school in the afternoons and work at night, and with the notes she’d compiled so far, she was getting ever closer to finishing her master’s degree.
While she wouldn’t trade the time she’d spent with her mother for anything, she did feel a sense of longing when she saw couples out together, laughing and having fun, or pushing a baby stroller. She hadn’t dated since college and, given her schedule now, there wasn’t a lot of room for a man. That was okay, though. She needed to focus on finishing school, and starting a relationship would only delay that.
Despite her self-imposed single status, Fiona could still appreciate a handsome man. Like Nate. She let her thoughts drift, pulling up the image of his face. She liked knowing his name now, though she’d have to get used to calling him Nate instead of Hot Guy. She’d been attracted to him before tonight, of course. Her fingers tightened on the coffee cup as she imagined him in his dress uniform. His golden skin would look amazing against a black starched shirt, and she was willing to bet he had a lot of shiny medals to pin against his broad chest.
Medals probably earned for stupidly brave actions that could have gotten him killed, her practical side pointed out. She remembered her dad and his friends—adrenaline junkies, all of them. And their exploits weren’t limited to the job. Her father had had a string of affairs, no-strings-attached flings with the women who liked to hang around the precinct, looking to date a cop. “Badge bunnies,” her mother had called them.
The thought darkened her mood a bit, pulling her back into reality. There was a reason she didn’t try to date cops, no matter how sexy they were.
But, her libido responded, he’d been deliciously solid on top of her, and she wished the circumstances had been different so she could have actually enjoyed lying underneath him. It had been a long time—too long—since she’d felt the weight of a man, and unless she decided to throw her plans out the window, she wasn’t likely to feel it again anytime soon. And even though she was hesitant to date a cop, maybe they could have a little fun before they went their separate ways? Nate was going to drive her back to the store, so maybe she could trip and pull him down with her...
She shook her head at the wild fantasy as Officer Rodriguez—she just couldn’t call him Steve after such short acquaintance—walked back into the room. He caught her gesture and gave her a concerned look. “Everything okay?”
Fiona felt her face heat. “Um, yeah,” she stammered, grasping for something to tell him. She settled for holding up the coffee cup. “I was debating taking another sip, but decided I was better off just holding it for the warmth.”
He gave her a sympathetic wince. “Sorry about that. We drink so much of the stuff around here, you’d think we could make it better, but no one ever seems to have the time.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a smile. “Bad coffee and police stations are supposed to go together. I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about it somewhere, kind of like peanut butter and jelly.”
Officer Rodriguez laughed. “I suppose you’re right.” He sat across from her and tapped the pages he’d been carrying into order. “I just have a few things for you to sign, and then you’re free to go.” He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and slid it across the table.
“First up is your statement,” he said, passing a stapled collection of pages to her. “Just review it for accuracy, and if you’re satisfied, initial at the bottom of each page and sign on the last page.”
Fiona started to glance over the text but was interrupted by the appearance of another form. “Next, we need your updated contact information. And finally,” he said, handing her yet another piece of paper, “you need to sign this form indicating your desire to press charges against the assailant.”
“Do you think he’ll be convicted?”
Officer Rodriguez shrugged. “I doubt he’ll make it to trial—his public defender will probably try to plead him out.”
Fiona nodded. “Good.” She grabbed the pen and prepared to sign, but a disturbing thought made her pause. “Will he know my name?”
The officer frowned. “The perp? If it goes to trial, then, yeah. That will be a matter of public record.” He watched her set the pen down and rushed to add, “But you don’t need to worry. I’ve never seen a case where the witness was harmed for testifying.”
That was reassuring news, but Fiona still felt uncertain. What if he got out on parole? Wouldn’t he be angry with her for sending him to jail in the first place?
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Officer Rodriguez offered her a reassuring smile. “In my experience, once the trial is over, the victims are able to move on with their lives.”
“So you don’t think he’d come after me if I decided to press charges?”
The officer shook his head. “It’s not worth it. If he contacted you, he’d be in even worse trouble. Criminals are dumb, but they’re not stupid, know what I mean?”
Not really, but his confidence went some way toward calming her nerves. This was the right thing to do—if she didn’t press charges, the man who’d attacked her might get away with it, leaving him free to rob again. And the next time, there wouldn’t be a police officer there to save the day.
On a sudden burst of conviction, she signed the bottom of the form and pushed it across the table. There. It was done. No going back now.
Officer Rodriguez collected the papers and gave her a smile. “You’re doing the right thing, ma’am.”
She nodded as he left the room. Now what? She’d given her statement, answered all their questions and signed the necessary paperwork. Was there anything left for her to do here?
“I want to go home,” she muttered, swirling the dark brew around the cup.
“That can be arranged.”
She jumped at the voice, spilling the now-lukewarm coffee down the sides of the cup and over her fingers. Shaking her hands to dry them off, she turned around to find Hot Guy—Nate, she reminded herself firmly—leaning against the doorjamb. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and his long legs were crossed at the ankle as he regarded her with those mossy-green eyes.
“Sorry.” He smiled at her, the expression transforming his face from watchful to beautiful in a heartbeat. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stepped into the room, and Fiona fought the urge to lean back in her chair. He was just so big, his presence impossible to ignore in the interview room. It hadn’t seemed like a small space before when Officer Rodriguez had questioned her, but now she felt the walls were closing in on her, the room shrinking down to her and Nate.
“It’s okay,” she replied, wiping her still-damp hands on her pants. “I’m just a little jumpy tonight.” She offered him a weak smile as he took the chair across from her.
“Understandable,” he said, leaning forward to place his forearms on the table. With his hands linked together loosely, he could be mistaken for a man at rest. But as Fiona took in his pose, she could tell by the set of his shoulders and his alert gaze that he was anything but relaxed.
Why was he here? She was happy to see him, but she really did want to go home. Officer Rodriguez had made it sound as if she could leave soon, but with Nate settling in across from her, she now wondered if there had been a delay—maybe there were more forms to fill out, more questions to answer.
“When can I leave?”
“Should just be a few more minutes. I came to keep you company while they’re wrapping things up, and then I’ll take you back to the store so you can get your car.”
She shivered, dread washing over her at the thought of going back to the store. She didn’t want to be there, at least not tonight. She wanted to go home and soak in a hot bath, to wash the events of the night off her and rebuild her defenses before facing the store again.
Nate noticed her reaction, his eyes narrowing slightly while he watched her. “Is there someplace else you’d rather go?”
“I’d rather you take me home.” She felt her face heat as the boldness of her words registered. “Um, I mean... I don’t feel up to going to the store now, if that’s okay.”
His lips twitched, his eyes warming as he took in her blush. Rubbing a finger along his lower lip, he nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” His voice, deep to begin with, seemed to drop another register. Fiona lifted her gaze from his mouth to his eyes, seeing a flash of heat there. Was he flirting with her? No way. She mentally shook her head. Handsome men like Nate didn’t bother to give her a second look. The stress of the evening was making her hallucinate, had her hearing and seeing things that weren’t there. All the more reason to retreat to her house and regroup.
She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door as Officer Rodriguez returned. He caught sight of Nate and drew up short, surprise registering on his face. “Oh. I didn’t know you were in here.”
Nate leaned back and propped his hands behind his head. “They finished up with me, so I thought I’d keep Ms....” He trailed off, cut his glance to her and raised a brow inquisitively.
“Sanders,” she supplied helpfully.
He winked at her, making her heart thump double time. Then he looked back to Officer Rodriguez. “Like I was saying, I decided to keep Ms. Sanders company. She was looking lonely.”
The other man looked at Nate, then swiveled his head to look at her before turning back to Nate. Fiona blushed again, feeling suddenly shy in the face of his perusal. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t buy Nate’s story for a minute.
Fiona cleared her throat, interrupting the men’s impromptu staring contest. “Can I go?”
Officer Rodriguez gave her a small smile. “Yes, ma’am. Thanks for your help tonight.”
She stood, collecting her purse and the half-empty cup of coffee. “Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate what you guys did for me.”
Nate got to his feet, as well, and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the room. The barrier of her shirt was no match for the heat of his skin, and she felt his touch like a brand. He steered her past Officer Rodriguez and into the main room, which was surprisingly busy given the lateness of the hour.
Fiona paused at the doorway, taken aback by all the activity. Nate leaned forward to whisper in her ear, the gesture intimate despite the crowd. “It’s okay—just keep moving.”
“I didn’t expect it to be so busy in the middle of the night.”
He shot her a grin while he walked her to the door. “Lots of trouble happens after dark, trust me.” A rude shout accompanied his words, and Fiona’s eye was drawn to the man in a cage on the far side of the room. He staggered to his feet and lumbered over to the bars, screaming obscenities at the officers seated nearby. The police officers didn’t even blink, but kept their heads down while they focused on their work.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Nate followed her gaze. “Probably just drunk,” he replied, shrugging as if the matter was of little consequence. “It’s a full moon, which usually makes for a crazy night.”
She glanced up at him to gauge if he was pulling her leg. He wasn’t. His expression showed no trace of humor or sarcasm. “You’re serious about the full moon, aren’t you?”
He held the door for her as they stepped into the chilly night air. “Oh, yeah. It’s a well-known fact that the crazies come out in force on a full moon. A few years ago, it was a full moon on Halloween.” He shuddered as he unlocked the car door for her. “Took me weeks to get over that.”
Fiona smiled while she climbed in. “I can imagine,” she said, picturing him on patrol, a shiny badge affixed to his chest.
Just like Dad’s.
The unsettling thought left her as soon as she caught a whiff of his enticing smell when he settled behind the wheel of the car. Her muscles relaxed, her body instinctively recognizing she was safe in his presence even if her mind was reluctant to surrender. Her hands began to lose the cold numbness that had settled over her after the attack, and she let her head rest on the seat back, taking a deep breath for the first time that night.
The car started with a low rumble. “All right,” Nate said, flashing her a quick smile as he worked the gearshift. “Let’s get you home.”
