Читать книгу The Thanksgiving Target - Laura Scott, Laura Scott - Страница 10

Numb from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, Tara sat beside Max in the car, her throat thick with overwhelming sorrow. She’d almost lost Beau. Her poor little puppy. Beau wasn’t exactly a puppy, since she’d gotten him from the shelter a few years ago, but he was so cute and still a puppy at heart. He’d always be her puppy, full of fun and energy, constantly happy to see her.

Her eyes filled again. Beau had helped keep her grounded after Ted died. She didn’t know what she’d do without him. Beau just had to survive. She closed her eyes and silently prayed that God would allow Beau to recover quickly.

It took her a few minutes to realize Max had stopped the car and was looking at her expectantly. She glanced outside, realizing with a start they were home.

Or at least at Mrs. Henderson’s house.

“Tara? Are you okay?”

She shook her head but opened the car door and climbed out. Max moved fast. He met her before she could get too far. “Don’t go home yet,” he said, capturing her arm. “Not without me. Give me a minute to return Mrs. Henderson’s car keys.”

It was easier to obey than to think. She nodded.

Standing on the narrow grass lawn between her house and Mrs. Henderson’s, she shivered and clutched Max’s camouflage jacket tighter around her shoulders. Beau had looked so sick. She missed him already.

“Tara, I’m going to go through your house. Wait outside for me.”

She gave another weary nod as she huddled beneath his jacket. She couldn’t even imagine what Max might find. Yet she also couldn’t imagine why anyone would try to hurt Beau, either.

“You can come in now. There’s no one here. But I do want you to take a look around, to see if anything looks out of place.”

Reluctantly, she mounted the steps and headed inside to meet him. Trying to tell herself she was being ridiculous, she started in the living room, seeing nothing unusual, before heading into the kitchen where she’d found Beau. His food and water bowls were empty; she only fed him once a day in the morning. Max stood silently off to the side as she gazed around.

“Everything seems fine,” she said, helplessly lifting her shoulders. “I don’t see anything wrong.”

“Okay, but double-check the bathroom and bedrooms too, just to make certain. I’ll take another quick look outside and then meet you back here.”

She did as Max asked, but there too, everything seemed to be the way she’d left it. She was a neat person by nature, and nothing was amiss. In her room, she collapsed on the side of her bed for a moment, suddenly exhausted. Her feet ached, and she longed to change into more comfortable clothes. She still felt numb, but some of the effect was beginning to wear off. As much as she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pull a pillow over her head to forget all the troubles of her day, she forced herself to stand and return to meet Max in the kitchen.

His face was somber and she instantly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I found this outside in the backyard, at the base of your small maple tree.” He gestured to a shredded fast-food wrapper with less than half a hamburger inside. “Somehow, given how neat and tidy your home is, I doubt you left it out there.”

No, she hadn’t. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard, understanding why he’d looked so serious. “You think the vet is right? Someone hid some drugs in the sandwich and left it for Beau?”

“I think it’s possible. Call the police.” His voice held the unmistakable tone of a command. “I’m sure they can test what’s left of this for potential drug residue.”

The police. They already knew about her tire-slashing episode. What would they think now? At first, when she’d thought someone was following her, they hadn’t been too concerned. But then finding her car with all four tires slashed, she’d garnered more attention. And now poor Beau.

Why? How could this happen? What had she done to become someone’s target? She supposed she should be glad that Max had found the fast-food wrapper outside, which might indicate that whoever had tried to harm Beau hadn’t been inside her house.

Yet she still felt very alone and far too vulnerable.

“Tara?” Max’s expression now held concern. “Are you all right? Did you hear me? Beau will be fine, but you need to call the police.”

“I heard you.” She pulled herself together with an effort. She didn’t like taking orders from Max, but she couldn’t afford not to call the police, either. “I will. Thanks for following me home. I don’t know what I would have done without you. But I know you’re worried about Melissa. I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hang around. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, and she suspected he realized she was kindly trying to get rid of him. She didn’t think Max was the type to push his company on anyone—the way he’d so nicely asked her to dinner proved that. But he had insisted on following her home on the bus. He was the type of man who clearly took his role as protector very seriously.

He was only being nice, yet she suddenly felt very guilty for inviting him into the home she’d shared with her husband.

“Tara, I’d really rather wait until the police arrive. What if whoever did this is still hanging around somewhere close by?”

She bit her lip, wondering what to do. If she allowed Max to stay, then he’d end up hearing the whole story of what had been happening to her. And as much as she appreciated everything he’d done for her up until this point, she didn’t want to burden him with her problems.

She couldn’t help but glance toward her kitchen window over the sink, the one that overlooked her backyard. The image of the man with a ball cap following her as she went out for lunch last week rushed to the forefront of her mind. Was he the one who’d done the damage to her car tires? If she told Max about the guy, he would for sure refuse to leave. The memory of the man made her clench her fists, frightened to be alone.

This indecisiveness wasn’t like her. She needed to pull herself together, to create some sort of plan. Max was right. She absolutely needed to report this new development to the police. “Okay, you can stay for a bit.” She went to the phone and dialed the nonemergency St. Louis P.D. number that she now knew by heart. “Once I’m finished, I’ll make coffee.”

But Max was already shaking his head, making his way to the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen where her coffeemaker was located. “No, I’ll do it. You’ve had a rough day. Sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”

As before, his thoughtfulness brought a lump to her throat. How did his kindness manage to touch her so deeply? She didn’t want to think about Max, so she focused her attention on trying to fix her problems instead.

After giving the dispatcher on the other end of the line her information, she hung up and did as Max suggested, sitting down to put her feet up. She watched him working in her kitchen, realizing she was in danger of becoming too accustomed to Max’s calm, reassuring presence.

He was Melissa’s brother, here to look after his sister, not her. He was home for only a few weeks.

She’d learned a long time ago that it was better to stand on her own two feet rather than to lean on someone else. And despite how Max suddenly seemed to make himself at home in her house, she knew full well it would only be a matter of time before she’d be alone again.

The police arrived on her doorstep mere minutes after she’d placed the call. Either they were having a slow night or the police file on her had grown so thick she warranted a high-level response.

She found herself hoping for the former reason. The latter would indicate she had every reason to be afraid.

The two officers introduced themselves as Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg. Officer Anderson was tall and thin, while Officer Schimberg was short and stout.

They asked her endless questions, going over the events again step-by-step. They walked through her house and then went outside to look around her back yard. As Max predicted, they took the food wrapper and the remains of the hamburger and promised to test it for residue.

“Ms. Carmichael, it’s highly likely these events, the man following you, the tire slashing and this possible drugging of your dog have all been done by the same perpetrator,” Officer Anderson said with a serious frown.

“Yes, I know.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Max’s scowl as he listened, but thankfully he didn’t interrupt.

“Are you sure you can’t give us a better idea who to look for? Some guy you’ve jilted?” Officer Schimberg asked. “Anyone at work that might have held a grudge against you?”

“I told you before that I’m not seeing anyone. My husband passed away just a little over a year and a half ago. Many of my clients aren’t happy with me, but I can’t think of anyone who would do something like this.”

“Which client has been the most unhappy with you lately?” Officer Anderson persisted.

She hesitated and then reluctantly admitted, “Tyrone Adams.” As much as she didn’t want to think Tyrone was capable of such cruelty, the young man was a different person under the influence of drugs. Could the mystery man with the blue baseball hat be Tyrone? She hadn’t gotten a good look at him to be sure.

“We’ll have a chat with Tyrone,” Officer Anderson said, looking happy to have at least one suspect.

“What about Lieutenant Forrester?” Officer Schimberg shot a suspicious glance at Max. “How long have you known him?”

She felt her face flush. “I only met Lieutenant Forrester tonight. His sister is a client of mine, and she’s sick in the hospital.”

“I just arrived home from Iraq today,” Max spoke up, seemingly not offended to be considered a possible suspect for the second time that evening. “I was on the AirTran Airways flight from Germany to St. Louis, with a layover in New York. My superiors will gladly verify my story.”

“Write down the name and phone number of your commanding officer, if you don’t mind,” Officer Anderson suggested.

Max did as requested, despite her protests.

After Max handed over the information, there was a moment of silence before the two officers exchanged a resigned look as they made their way to the door.

“Ms. Carmichael, we’ll check on Tyrone, but just in case he’s not the guy, you need to go through every single one of your clients, listing every possibility no matter how unlikely,” Officer Anderson said in a serious tone. “Please call us once you have the list.”

“I will.” Tara stood and followed them to the door. “Thanks for coming.”

Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg left, and she closed the door behind them, warily turning to face Max. His expression was dark, like an impending storm.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re being stalked?” he demanded, in a tone that was soft yet edged in steel at the same time.

“Because I didn’t know for sure.” She didn’t like sounding so defensive. “I didn’t really believe it, not until I saw poor Beau. Regardless, it’s really none of your business, is it? Thanks for staying, but it’s late and I’m tired. I’ll see you at the hospital in the morning.”

Her hint for him to leave was anything but subtle. He silently stared at her for a long moment and then leaned his hips back against her kitchen counter and crossed his strong arms over his chest. “You have fifteen minutes to pack a bag.”

“What?” She gaped at him.

“Tara, I’m not leaving you here alone with some stalker on the loose. I’m going to find a hotel close to the hospital to spend the night, and I think it’s best if you come with me.” He must have read the frank panic in her eyes because he hastily added, “Not in the same room, of course. At least in a hotel you’ll be safe from harm.”

Admittedly, the idea held a certain appeal. Not from a financial perspective, but at least she’d be close to the hospital, able to keep an eye on Melissa. And if she stubbornly insisted on staying in her house, she doubted she’d get any sleep. She’d no doubt lie awake, frighteningly aware of every sound.

But going with Max would be a risk. She was already feeling too close to him. Too grateful for his protection.

She barely knew him.

Her silence was obviously wearing on him, since his tone grew impatient. “This guy knows where you live. He tried to get rid of your dog and probably already knows Mrs. Henderson is hard of hearing. What’s to stop him from showing up in the middle of the night? He almost killed Beau. How do you know he won’t feel more desperate the next time he shows up?”

A shiver racked her body, having nothing to do with the temperature outside. His words, spoken so bluntly, made the entire situation sound that much more sinister.

Max was right. She didn’t know who the guy was, so how could she know what lengths he’d go to get back at her for some perceived wrong she’d committed. She would be better off in a hotel, miles from her house. She needed to think logically, not emotionally.

Ted had loved her. He’d want her to be safe.

Max pushed away from the counter, coming to stand in front of her. “Please, Tara? I don’t feel right leaving you here. There must be something I can say to convince you.”

She could almost hear Ted’s voice telling her not to be foolish.

“I’ll stay in a hotel room for tonight,” she agreed slowly. “But I don’t want you to feel responsible for me. This isn’t your problem.”

He didn’t say anything in response, but as she turned to go down to her bedroom to pack an overnight bag, she suspected Max was incapable of standing aside, allowing her to face her problems on her own.

And deep down, despite her guilt over the prickly awareness she felt around Melissa’s brother, she was secretly glad that she had Max to lean on, at least for a few more hours.

Max ground the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stay calm and rational and awake as he waited for Tara to return with her overnight case.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a more stubborn woman. There was a part of him that admired her strength, her ability to weather a shock such as finding her dog hurt or her tires slashed. But at the moment he was more frustrated than anything. Lissa had teased him about being a control freak and his sister might be right.

Someone was stalking Tara. Yet she’d never said a word, hadn’t so much as hinted at her troubles. Most women were more than grateful for a helping hand—but not Tara. She seemed to think she could take this guy on by herself. And, like always, his need to protect others kicked in at the first sign of a woman in distress. He wanted nothing more than to keep Tara out of harm’s way.

But her well-being wasn’t his problem, as she’d so clearly pointed out. He wasn’t responsible for her.

He should be glad she felt that way. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to loosen the tightness of his neck. The thought of anyone hurting Tara made his blood turn cold. Thankfully, she wasn’t stupid enough to stay here by herself.

Not after someone had been at her house.

He’d help her get away from this creep stalking her, but then he needed to leave her alone. He didn’t understand this intense attraction he felt for her. She was beautiful, but he’d never particularly cared about outward appearances. He appreciated her nobility in dedicating her life to helping others—people like his sister. Yet she was also a widow. She’d emphatically denied having a man in her life when the police had asked, and he understood she was clearly stating she didn’t want one.

Which should be fine with him. She was a woman in trouble, and he didn’t really want to be involved in her problems any more than he already was. Especially since he refused to make the same mistake again, misinterpreting gratitude and friendship for something more.

He wasn’t going to be in town for long anyway. Soon, he’d be flown back to Iraq.

A twenty-day leave wasn’t much time. His main concern was to find Gary, Lissa’s abusive boyfriend. He was glad the police were already on the case, although until he talked to them, he wouldn’t know if they were making any progress or not. And if he could give Tara a little protection from her stalker, he would. But he wouldn’t allow himself to get too close.

Tara returned to the kitchen, dressed in comfortable jeans, a sweater and a heavy-duty blue denim jacket. She looked much younger in the casual clothes. The navy blue suit she’d worn earlier had given her a more professional appearance. In her arms she carried a small overnight bag and his camouflage cargo jacket.

He was ridiculously disappointed that she’d taken his jacket off to replace it with one of her own.

“Here,” she said, handing the army jacket to him.

“Thanks.” He took the coat and stuffed it back into his duffel. Then he plucked the overnight bag from her hands, ignoring her protest, and slung both bags over his shoulder. He stepped back so Tara could go out the door first. She threw one last glance over her shoulder, and he understood the regret darkening her eyes. Leaving her home hadn’t been an easy decision.

He followed her outside and then waited until she’d closed and locked her door before they headed back down the road toward the bus stop. They hadn’t quite reached the corner when a loud explosion blasted his ears, rocking the night.

In a heartbeat, he shielded Tara with his body, convinced they were back in Iraq under mortar attack.

What happened? Where was the enemy firing from?

He glanced back over his shoulder and once the flashback faded, he realized Tara’s house was engulfed in smoke and flames.

Someone had tried to kill her.