Читать книгу Deadly Reunion - Lauren Nichols - Страница 9

Lindsay rose to clear away their dinner plates, biting her tongue for what seemed like the hundredth time. Since her dining room still wasn’t usable, she’d cut fresh French and white lilacs from the bushes out back, then arranged them in a glass vase with some trailing ivies and centered them on her kitchen table. Combined with a lacy white tablecloth and the white china she rarely used, they lent a pretty touch of grace to her remodeled oak, peach and mint kitchen.

She’d also popped in an instrumental CD her mom liked, and prepared orange-glazed chicken, baked potatoes and steamed broccoli with her mother’s health and preferences in mind. Unfortunately, at the moment none of it seemed to impress Arlene Hollis. The temperature in Lindsay’s kitchen had dropped ten degrees the instant she’d mentioned Ike’s name.

“Unbelievable,” Arlene continued angrily. “He’s in town less than twenty-four hours, and suddenly the clock’s turned back and you’re giving him whatever he wants, no matter how I feel about it.”

“Mother,” Lindsay replied calmly, “I’m not giving him anything, and I do care how you feel. He’s concerned that there might be a connection, and he simply asked me to speak to you about—”

“—desecrating your brother’s room and his memory. I heard you the first time. And the reason that man is concerned is he’s looking for someone else to shoulder his guilt.”

Arlene tore the napkin from her lap, dropped it beside her teacup and pushed to her feet. “Ricky told him that something bad would happen if he didn’t get out of town. And what did Ike do? He ignored your brother. He was more interested in his recovery fee than the pleas of a young boy who’d made an unfortunate mista—”

Tears choked off the rest of her sentence, and jumping up, Lindsay went to her petite mother’s side. There was no point in repeating that Ike hadn’t wanted a fee, or reminding her pretty blond mom that for most of his life, Ricky had cried wolf and blown his troubles and needs enormously out of proportion. Her mother was in no mood to listen.

Smoothing a hand over the shoulder of her mother’s pale pink sweater, Lindsay looked down into her hazel eyes. Eyes like Ricky’s. “Mom, please,” she said quietly, sincerely. “Calm down. It was a request, not a demand. If you feel that strongly about it, I’ll tell Ike that it’s not going to happen.”

Arlene blinked back her tears. “But you think it’s necessary.”

“Yes, I do. If someone deliberately—”

“The answer is no,” Arlene said more forcefully. “I don’t want that man in my home—not ever again. And mark my words, Lindsay, if you let him back in your life, he’ll destroy you all over again.”

Lindsay sighed at the ceiling, unable to hold back her frustration any longer. “Mom, neither of us wants to get involved again. We have separate lives now. It’s over. We’ve both moved on. In fact, we wouldn’t even be speaking if it wasn’t for yesterday’s shooting.”

Arlene’s tight expression never changed. She glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s getting late. I should be leaving.”

“It’s only seven o’clock. Stay for dessert. I made a nice fruit salad, and I picked up a quart of frozen peach yogurt.”

“I can’t,” she said, pushing away then moving into the living room where she’d left her purse and keys. “I told you earlier that your aunt Cheryl would be calling, and I don’t want to keep her waiting. It’s long distance to Bangor.”

Which made no sense at all, but Lindsay wouldn’t point that out or press for a better excuse. Her mother was obviously determined to leave and she wouldn’t stop her.

“Are you all right?” she asked when she’d walked her to the driveway where Arlene’s blue Toyota was parked.

“I’m fine,” she replied stiffly. “Rather, I will be as soon as that man goes back to Portland and leaves us alone.” After hugging Lindsay without warmth, she slid behind the wheel and smoothed her short salon cut before starting her car.

Then, abruptly, she turned off the ignition and got back out, tears rimming her hazel eyes again and a wealth of love in her voice. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she murmured, embracing Lindsay again. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset, especially after you made such a lovely dinner. Maybe we can have some of that peach yogurt another time soon.”

“Of course we can,” Lindsay replied, returning her hug.

Easing back, Arlene looked into Lindsay’s eyes again, her gaze troubled. “In my defense, I… Well, you know how much I miss your dad and brother. I—I just don’t want to lose you, too. Not again. And I’m afraid that could happen if you let him back into your life. He’s not good for you, sweetheart.”

Lindsay felt a guilty pang, even though she recognized her mother’s maneuverings. There’d been a tug-of-war for her affections after Ricky’s death, and for a while, her emotional mother had believed she was on the losing side. She’d never understood that they’d all lost in the terrible days that followed her brother’s passing.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Lindsay said gently. “We’re family, and I love you. But will you do something for me?”

“Anything, honey.”

“Think about what we discussed. Mom, this could be so important.”

For an instant, her mother’s gaze hardened again. Then she nodded, gave Lindsay another warm hug and drove off.

Sighing, Lindsay reentered her home and headed for the telephone on her computer hutch. Ike would be disappointed, just as she was. But that’s the way it had to be—for now, at least. They just had to hope that after her mother had given the search some thought, she’d see the need for justice and change her mind.

Taking his business card from the top of the hutch, Lindsay dialed Ike’s cell phone, feeling that emptiness in her chest again. It occurred to her that if she’d told her mom how totally disinterested Ike had been when she’d mentioned dating John Fielding, her mother wouldn’t have wasted a second worrying.

In a moment, his deep, recorded baritone came on. “This is Ike. Apparently, I’m out of range right now because this thing’s always turned on. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Hi, it’s me,” she replied soberly. “I’m just calling to tell you that it didn’t go well with my mother. I’ll talk to her again tomorrow—Saturday—after she’s had some time to think about it, then I’ll contact you again. No need to return my call. Have a good evening.”

But as Lindsay finished clearing the table and returning her pretty cut-glass dessert cups to the cupboard, she had to admit that she didn’t want him to have a good evening. Not after making an absolute mess of hers without even being here.

And where was he tonight, anyway? What was he doing, and who was he was doing it with?

With renewed energy, she started the dishwasher, moved the lilacs from her table and yanked up her lacy tablecloth, determined not to think about it. The two of them had moved on.

Isn’t that what she’d just told her mother?

Wired, Ike strode inside the one-story, pale brick Spindrift Public Library on Saturday morning and stopped at the aging librarian’s desk for directions to the children’s section. Getting them, he moved past a row of idle computers, then past a few elderly men reading newspapers in the sunlight spilling through a wall of windows.

He spotted her the instant he rounded a corner near the rear of the building, and he experienced an unwelcome, but pleasant little ping. From her perch on a low stool surrounded by shelves crammed with books, she was reading and laughing with the dozen four-to-six-year-olds sitting Indian-style around her. Their attention was riveted on her. She held the tall book open on her lap as she paged through it so the kids could enjoy the bright illustrations.

Something brushed his leg. With a start, Ike jerked a look down at the floor. A little orange tabby cat looked up at him, then apparently decided he wasn’t worth her time and padded by him. A moment later, she’d joined the children, and a moment after that, was wending around Lindsay’s feet. Lindsay kept reading, stroked the cat, then turned the page.

A cat in a library? Her cat? He hadn’t noticed a cat when he’d visited her two nights ago. Then again, he’d barely noticed anything but her green eyes and mile-long legs.

Taking a book from a shelf, Ike hung back, mostly out of sight, flipping through it and listening to the expressive sound of her voice as she read. She looked like a young, doting mother, beautiful and engaging and slender… And he had to look away before his body betrayed his other thoughts.

Nostalgia hit as he recalled her expressing an interest in working with kids several times during their marriage—thought about getting involved with Brownies or the Big Brothers and Sisters program during her spare time. That was before he’d gotten to know and enjoy Sam and Jennie’s toddlers, and he’d asked why she’d want to do that. Grinning, she’d replied that she needed some practice for that “someday” when they’d have little ones of their own.

But someday had never come, and Ike felt the old edginess return as his mind sifted through the facts and once again assigned blame.

Disappointed whines erupted as Lindsay finished and closed the book. Then she handed each child a rainbow-colored coupon for ice cream and suddenly they were hugging her and chattering happily again. Seconds later they bolted from the room to join their parents, the little orange tabby briskly following, her flag of a tail in the air.

Ike returned the book to the shelf as Lindsay walked unerringly toward him. He hadn’t noticed her noticing him…but then, they’d always had a connection of sorts, an energy that flowed between them like honey from a hive. An exciting buzz, an intuitive realization that the other was near.

“Hi,” she murmured.

Ike took in her khaki slacks and white knit top. Today her sun-streaked blond hair fell to her shoulders and waved softly around her face. “Hi. I got your message.”

“Then you’re aware that she said no.”

“Yes.” He was disappointed, but more than that, he was frustrated. He wanted to move on this thing. He had nothing solid to base it on, but his gut told him that timing was important—and searching through Ricky’s things was the only way he could think of to… To what? Get absolution for his sins? To prove to Lindsay and her mother that if someone hadn’t gotten to Ricky the day he’d died, there would’ve been another attempt to keep him quiet?

“How can we change your mother’s mind?”

Lindsay looked around, then glanced toward the desk. “Let me get my purse from the librarian, then we can talk outside.”

“Your purse—and your cat?” he asked.

The somber look in her eyes left. “Oh, Marmalade’s not mine. She lives here. She’s one of the library cats.”

“There are more?”

“Yep, three. It’s a trendy thing that seems to be catching on—mostly in cities where the libraries are located in older buildings. The cats are invited in to keep down the rodent population.” She quirked a brow at him. “I’m surprised they don’t have them in Portland.”

Ike quirked a brow back. “When have you ever known me to spend time in libraries?”

“Never?”

“Right.”

They approached the graying librarian at the desk, and with a smile, the woman extended Lindsay’s purse.

“Thanks, Mrs. Arnett. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Looking forward to it,” the librarian returned cheerfully. “The youngsters enjoy you so much.”

“Not half as much as I enjoy them,” Lindsay answered warmly, and Ike could see that she was telling the truth. There’d been a glow about her as she’d interacted with the kids.

When they were out in the bright sun, she returned to their “cat” conversation. “Getting back to our kitties, they don’t work for their dinners here. They’re just furry little welcome wagons. Most people love them—think they add a homey feel to the place.”

“And those who don’t?”

She grinned. “Those who don’t, ignore them and get the same treatment from the cats.”

The municipal parking lot was several doors ahead, just past a small brick insurance office and a beauty parlor. They walked together beneath the leafy trees lining the street, the heels of Lindsay’s sandals sounding softly on the sun-dappled concrete.

She glanced up at him. “So how did you find me this time?”

“Your neighbor—the one with the R.V. parked in the driveway. She saw me at your door and called over that it was your Saturday to read to the kids.” They turned left and entered the lot, the breeze tossing her hair and giving Ike a glimpse of gold hoop earrings. “So I guess you meant what you said to the librarian, huh? You looked like you were having a good time in there.”

“I was. Kids are great. They’re interested and attentive and always eager to learn new things. That’s something I don’t always get from adults.”

“You read to adults, too?”

“No, but last year I started teaching CPR courses. Some of the businesses around here require their staff to know the basics, just in case a problem arises. Occasionally I get the feeling that one or two of them are only there because their job depends on it.”

“Got a list of their names? I’ll stay out of their stores.”

“Not a bad idea, but I doubt you’d need their help. You look to be in decent shape.” A fraction of a second later, she seemed to realize that she’d given him a compliment, and jerked her gaze from his to dig her keys from her purse.

Her red Chevy Blazer was parked just inside the perimeter of the lot. Lindsay unlocked it with the remote pod dangling from her key chain.

“You asked inside how we could change my mother’s mind. The answer to that is, I don’t know.”

He frowned. “I was hoping you’d spoken to her today with better results. God knows I didn’t get anywhere talking to your brother’s thug friends last night.”

Then he’d been working, not playing last night, Lindsay realized, feeling a little lift. He hadn’t been entertaining Brandy or some other woman who was into six-pack abs and sexy eyes. “You spoke to his friends?”

“For all the good it did me.”

“Who? And what did they say? Were they any help?”

She saw him check his watch, then frown. “Do you have be anywhere in the next hour or so?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then lock your car back up and let’s walk down to the harbor for something to eat. Nothing fancy—just some takeout. We can walk and talk while we stuff our faces. I skipped breakfast, and my stomach’s damn near digesting my backbone.”

Lindsay hesitated, her thoughts skipping from what people would say, to what John would think, to what her mother would feel. And then to what she felt. Finally she nodded, hit the remote lock on her key chain again and slipped her keys into the pocket of her khakis. She wasn’t hungry, but something he’d learned might change her mother’s mind about the search. Because beneath all the bravado, attitude and irresponsibility, her brother had been a good kid at heart. She was convinced that he could’ve changed in time, especially with Ike’s guidance and his dogged insistence that Ricky shape up. They owed it to themselves—and her brother’s memory—to find out what had really happened.

Twenty minutes later, with gulls wheeling and calling raucously in the clear sky over the docks, they strolled along, Ike alternately speaking and washing down his breakfast croissant with a foam cup of black coffee.

Lindsay found herself studying the full, masculine slope of his mouth too often, remembering things she shouldn’t. Feeling things she shouldn’t. At least she’d agreed to let him buy her an iced tea, and that had given her something to do with her hands. She’d had them in and out of her pockets a dozen times since Ike’s fingertips had grazed hers earlier and a jolt of pure, shivery electricity had shot up her arm, then detoured south. She didn’t need any more chemistry today. She needed information.

“In the end, all I got was attitude,” Ike continued. “They’re either too connected, scared spitless beneath all their cocky speeches, or they’re as clueless as we are.” He paused. “But even if they don’t know who’s at the top of the heap, they do know something.”

That disturbed her because on Thursday night, he’d said that the narcotics officer who’d arrested Ricky believed her brother had been involved with a minor organization. “When you say ‘top of the heap’ are you talking about mob connections? Because I just can’t see Ricky getting involved with people like that.”

“I’m talking about the person pulling the strings, whoever he is. There are enough drug peddlers in this area and the surrounding states that the head guy doesn’t have to have a last name full of vowels.”

Frowning, he pulled his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his blue knit shirt, offered them to her, then, when she shook her head, slipped them on. “When I was at the gym this morning, Tank gave me a couple of names I hadn’t heard before. I’ll check them out tonight—unless your mother has a change of heart.”

“Tonight? Why do you have to do this in the dark?” Old fears returned, the same fears she’d had to deal with whenever he left home with a fugitive contract in hand. “Why can’t you talk to these people during the day?”

He seemed amused by that. “Because these aren’t the kind of people who surface during the day. Tank gave me their street names and told me where they hang out.”

“But they have to live somewhere.”

“I’m sure they do, but I don’t have their addresses, and Ma Bell doesn’t list names like Ace and Creamer in the phone book.”

“Ike, I don’t like this.”

“I’m careful. You know me.”

Yes, she did know him. Too well.

Water lapped at the pier pilings and tethered rowboats bobbing outside one of the rental shops as they left the harbor and started up the asphalt path to the main street.

He glanced down at her, then laughed. “Relax.”

Lindsay glared at him and sipped her tea, remembering the scar from a gunshot on his left side. Recalling the night she’d nervously prowled an E.R. waiting room while a doctor sutured a cut over his right eye. It was healed now, reduced to a fine white line mostly hidden by his dark eyebrow. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again.

Still…he was strong and fit, every bone, muscle and sinew in his body ready for whatever came along. He also owned most of the crime-fighting paraphernalia police officers did—handcuffs, weapons, body armor—and his SUV was equipped with leg shackles for transporting skips.

The fact remained that in her opinion, he didn’t always use sound judgment.

She glanced up at him again. “Are you taking someone with you?” When he was on a recovery job, he generally partnered up or phoned the police for backup.

“Hardly. This is personal.”

“Then wear your vest if you go to Old Port tonight. Don’t leave it in your car.”

Grinning, Ike drained the rest of his coffee, then deposited the foam cup in a trash receptacle they passed by. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Linz. I’ll start thinking you care.”

Lindsay sent him a withering look. Just once, she’d like to have a postdivorce conversation with him without Ike baiting her or ticking her off. “Just sympathizing with my fellow medics and EMTs. They’re the people who have to rush to a scene when some idiot forgets to use common sense.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” he drawled, but there was an easy humor in his tone and she had to smile.

Her smile wobbled a bit, however, when they reached her car, and she set her drink on the roof before slipping her keys from her pocket. Because suddenly, she didn’t want to say goodbye. She sensed that he felt it, too, that old connection they’d always had, kicking in. If she didn’t count the last few stressful minutes, her walk to the docks with him had been…almost nice.

“Call me,” he murmured seriously. “You have my cell phone number. I’ll hang around for a while. Tell your mother I’ll do it any way she sees fit. But make her understand that no matter what she thinks of me, she owes this to her son.”

“Ike, all I can do is try.”

He removed his glasses and his darkly compelling gaze held hers. “Try hard. I think the clock could be ticking on this one.”

She was just opening her car door when he touched her, his callused hand warm on her upper arm. “Linz?”

Lindsay turned around to meet the question in his eyes. Then in a flash, whatever he was about to say vanished in the wake of something more basic. More elemental. Her pulse quickened and an age-old heat surged in her veins.

A split second later, his mouth was on hers, her heart was pounding, and Lindsay was clutching his broad shoulders and kissing him back for all she was worth.