Читать книгу Hostage At Hawk's Landing - Rita Herron - Страница 13

Melissa rubbed her arms to erase the chill invading her. Dex’s warm embrace reminded her of feelings that had never really gone away.

Dex exhaled. “What happened here?”

“We were locking up for the night when this man burst in the back door. He had a gun and grabbed me, said he wanted Jim Smith.”

“Did he say why?” Dex asked.

She shook her head. “No, it happened really fast. He pushed me toward the common room, then Jim appeared. Jim offered to trade himself for me, then the gunman told Jim to tie me up. He tossed him a rope. Smith grabbed the rope, then charged the man with the gun.”

Detective Lamar stepped outside, his voice carrying in the slight breeze that stirred. “I want an APB out on this man. Name is Jim Smith. Approach with caution. He’s already killed one man tonight, and is armed and dangerous.”

Melissa tensed at the detective’s tone. She crossed the space to him as he hung up. “Detective Lamar,” she said. “Jim isn’t dangerous, at least not in the way you’re suggesting. He acted in self-defense. He wasn’t armed when he came here.”

Dexter had followed her over to the cop, his arms crossed as he listened.

“How do you know Smith didn’t have a gun?” the detective asked. “Did you search his belongings?”

“Well, no,” Melissa admitted. “But I didn’t see any signs of a weapon. In fact, he was almost gentle at times. He tried to talk the gunman down, then he wrestled with the man and the gun went off.” Her voice cracked as the memory returned. “He was a hero, not the enemy. He saved my life.” And she wanted to thank him for it, not see him hunted down like an animal.

“You certainly are defensive of him.” The detective narrowed his eyes. “Exactly how well did you know Mr. Smith?”

Anger shot through Melissa at the insinuations in the cop’s voice. “He was a welcome guest here just like all of the other men who seek housing with us at Lend-A-Hand.”

“What was his story?” Detective Lamar asked. “Did he have a family?”

Melissa bit the corner of her lip, a habit she had when thinking. “I don’t know. He’d only been here a couple of days and didn’t share much about himself.”

“What did he share?” the detective asked.

Melissa searched her memory banks. “Nothing really. He was quiet, and kept to himself. But he was always polite at mealtimes and respectful of the other men and our volunteers.”

“So you’re defending a man you know virtually nothing about,” Detective Lamar said flatly. “His name sounds fake. He could be a criminal hiding out.”

She had considered that. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

Detective Lamar raised a brow. “What do you think?”

Dex cleared his throat. “Lamar, why don’t you lay off? Melissa told you all she knows. It’s her job to help the men who come here, not interrogate them.”

Officer Whalen, who’d been questioning the men inside, stepped to the door. “I’m finished here.”

The detective shrugged. “You get anything useful?”

Officer Whalen shook her head. “No one seemed to know anything about Smith. General consensus was that he didn’t want to talk. One guy thought Smith was hiding something. Another said Smith hinted that he didn’t have family. But Smith didn’t elaborate so we don’t know if he was married, divorced, had kids, or if he did, what happened to them.”

“What about a job?” Detective Lamar asked.

The officer shook her head. “Didn’t mention one.”

The detective turned back to Melissa. “Did he tell you what kind of work he did?”

He’d thrown that rope lasso-style, like a pro. Maybe ranching? Then again, most men in Texas knew how to rope and ride. “I’m afraid not.” She lifted her chin. “Instead of investigating Smith, why aren’t you looking into the dead man on the floor in the shelter? He’s the one who broke in here and put a gun to my head.”

* * *

DEX COULDN’T DRAG his eyes from Melissa and that tangled mass of hair. She had a heart of gold. But was she naive? Was Smith a criminal, using the shelter to hide from the law? Or...perhaps he was in trouble and the gunman was a bad guy chasing him?

Various scenarios bombarded him. Smith might have owed the man or someone else money. The shooter could have had a personal vendetta against Smith for some transgression against him.

“Listen to me, Ms. Gentry,” Lamar said. “We have to close down the shelter until we’re finished processing it. The men staying here will have to leave, at least temporarily.”

Melissa’s eyes flickered with unease. “How long will we have to be closed?”

“I can’t say for sure. I’ll let you know when we release the space and you can use it again. Meanwhile, I’ll have Officer Whalen escort the men outside.”

Lamar went to speak to Whalen, and Dex gave Melissa an understanding look. Knowing Melissa, she’d worry about the men they’d have to turn away.

“If you find a place for the men to stay tonight, I’ll provide transportation,” he offered.

Melissa’s look of gratitude suggested he’d read her correctly. She was more concerned about Smith and the men at the shelter than she was about herself. “Thanks, Dex. I will do that. I don’t like the idea of putting anyone out when it’s so hot.”

Melissa removed her phone from the pocket of her jeans and stepped aside to make a phone call.

Lamar walked back to him, his expression grim.

“Don’t you think you were a little hard on her?” Dex asked, annoyed at his friend.

“I’m just doing my job.” Lamar grunted. “How do you know her?”

Dex didn’t intend to share details of their relationship. “We met in college.”

“I didn’t think you went to college,” Lamar said.

Dex gritted his teeth. He had gone but not finished. Brayden was definitely the most educated of the Hawk men. Still, he loved his work. “I did, but just one semester. College wasn’t for me. I did take business classes at a local school though before I hung my shingle.”

Lamar worked his mouth from side to side. “I take it you and Ms. Gentry were...involved?”

Dex shrugged. “It was a long time ago. But I can vouch for her. Melissa’s the most honest, caring person I’ve ever met.”

“Caring enough that she’d cover for Smith?”

“You heard her story,” Dex said. “You can believe her.” He gestured toward the inside of the shelter. “Dr. Hudson in there?”

Lamar nodded. “They should be bringing the man’s body outside to transport to the morgue any minute.”

Dex shoved his hand in his pockets. “What do you know about the gunman?”

“Not much, yet. Name on his ID is Clark McTruitt.” Lamar shifted, putting his body between Dex and Melissa as if he didn’t want her to overhear what he had to say. “He had a PI license on him, Dex.”

A tense minute passed. “He was a PI? Where?” He would recognize his name if he worked out of Austin.

“Amarillo.” The door opened and two medics carried a stretcher with McTruitt’s body encased in a body bag on it. “He obviously had reason to come after Smith,” Lamar said. “Finding out more about Smith is key.”

Dex agreed with him on that. “I’ll go to McTruitt’s office and see what I can dig up.”

Lamar’s deep frown of disapproval coincided with a firm shake of his head. “Listen, Dex, this is a homicide investigation. I have to play it by the book.” He slanted him a warning look. “If I need you, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, go home and be with your family, and let me do my job.”

Dex clenched his jaw as Melissa strode toward the homeless men being escorted from the shelter. She could have died tonight.

That thought sent fear crawling through him. He didn’t give a damn what Lamar said.

There was no way he could walk away without answers.

* * *

MELISSA DIDN’T KNOW why the detective rubbed her the wrong way, but he did. She had been defensive of Jim Smith, but rightfully so. Although she had wondered about his past and what he was hiding from, he’d saved her life and she owed him.

She phoned her friend at Another Chance Shelter about forty miles away and explained the situation. The volunteer had enough beds open for the men to stay with them for a few nights if needed.

Several of the men went their own way, although three agreed to move to another facility.

She had a soft spot for Gunther and was glad he accepted the offer. He’d had a hard life. Had been injured in the Gulf War. With a bad leg and PTSD, he’d lost his job when he’d become addicted to pain meds. And he had no family.

An awkward silence filled the car as Dex drove them to the shelter. When they arrived, he parked, climbed out and met her at the passenger side. The men congregated a few feet away, the night taking its toll in the way they spoke in hushed tones about what had happened with the gunman.

“Wait here while I introduce them to the volunteers,” Melissa told Dex.

Dex hesitated, shifting on the balls of his feet. “Actually, I wanted to go with you, ask if anyone in there knew my father.”

He removed a photo from his wallet. She’d expected to see the picture he’d shown her when they’d met in college, but this photo was of an older man, the one he must have buried.

“Did you ever meet him?” Dex asked.

The pain in his voice ripped at her heartstrings and reminded her that Dex had been lost when they’d first met. She’d wanted to save him, but later realized she couldn’t save everyone. She’d learned that with her own father when he’d died with one hand around the bottle, the other holding a pistol.

He hadn’t cared enough about her to stick around. That had hurt the most.

Water under the bridge.

She had to move on, do what she could to help others.

She studied the photo, mentally tapping into the decade of homeless men she’d met on the streets or in various shelters, but she didn’t recognize the one in the picture. “I’m sorry, Dex, but I don’t recall seeing him anywhere.” She squeezed his hand, a warmth stirring inside her that triggered emotions she’d once felt for this strong, hurting man.

Dexter clenched his jaw. “All right. But I’d like to ask inside.”

She nodded in understanding.

Sadly, she’d heard similar stories from other families before. One family member left, leaving the others full of questions, pain and guilt. God knows she’d had her share of that over her own situation.

It was a complicated problem and could only be dealt with one family at a time.

Heartbreak City, if she let herself get too involved. The reason she needed to keep her distance from Dex. She had her own demons to slay.

And she’d barely survived the first time he’d left her.

She didn’t want to revisit that kind of pain again.

* * *

DEX JAMMED HIS hands in his pockets. A faint breeze stirred, bringing the scent of cigarette smoke and the hushed voices of the homeless men.

Melissa rolled her shoulders, fatigue showing on her face. “Let’s get the men settled.”

She texted her friend that she’d arrived, and he followed her to the door. A few minutes later, the men accepted cots in the back of the shelter, and she and Dex stood talking to Edgar, the volunteer.

“I heard what happened,” Edgar said with a worried look. “I’m so sorry, Melissa. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Melissa said. “But it’s a reminder of how quickly someone can break in.”

Dex showed Edgar the recent photograph of his father and another shot of him around the time he’d disappeared.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Edgar said. “But he hasn’t been here.”

“You’re sure?” Dex asked.

“Edgar has a near photographic memory,” Melissa said.

Dexter eyed the man. He was late forties, wore big chunky brown glasses, had a wide nose and a missing front tooth. The way he picked at his fingernails indicated nerves, maybe a habit from living a hard life himself. Everyone had a story.

He just wanted to know what his father’s was.

Melissa lapsed into silence as he drove her back to Lend-A-Hand. When they reached the facility, she snagged her keys from her purse. “Thanks for driving us to Another Chance.”

“No problem.” He spotted a beat-up minivan in the parking lot and guessed it was hers. Melissa had never valued material things. “I’ll follow you home,” he offered.

“That’s not necessary.” Her voice took on a stiff ring.

He knew she was shaken, but he wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight. “Melissa, you could have been hurt tonight.” Killed, but he couldn’t allow himself to voice that awful thought aloud. “I’ll see that you get home safely, so don’t argue.”

Melissa rubbed a hand over her eyes. She was obviously so exhausted she simply nodded and slipped from his SUV. Just as he thought, the beat-up minivan belonged to her.

She jammed her keys in the ignition, the engine taking three tries to sputter to life.

Anger that she sacrificed so much for others mingled with worry that she might have died doing just that.

She deserved so much better. To have diamonds and pearls. At least a car that didn’t look as if it had been rolled twice.

He glanced back at the shelter before he pulled from the parking lot. Melissa was no doubt worried about the men she’d had to move tonight. But worry for her raged through him. He didn’t like the fact that Melissa put herself in danger by trying to help them. Tonight’s incident proved the facility wasn’t secure.

The thought of losing her bothered him more than he wanted to admit as he followed her through the streets of Austin. His gut tightened when she veered into an area consisting of transitional homes. A couple had been remodeled, but most looked as if they were teardowns. The street was not in the best part of town, either, and was known for shady activities, including drug rings and gangs.

Her house was a tiny bungalow with a sagging little porch and paint-chipped shutters, and sat next to a rotting shanty where two guys in hoodies hovered by the side porch, heads bent in hushed conversation as if they might be in the middle of a drug deal.

He gritted his teeth as he parked and walked up the graveled path to the front porch. She paused, her key in hand. A handcrafted wreath said Welcome Home, which for some reason twisted his gut even more.

Melissa had never had a real home, while he’d grown up on the ranch with family and brothers and open land.

She offered him a small smile. “Thanks for following me, Dex.”

“I’ll go in and check the house,” he said, itching to make sure that at least her windows and doors were secure. From his vantage point now, it looked as if a stiff wind would blow the house down.

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary, but I appreciate it.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

She opened the door and ducked inside without another word and without looking back. An image of her crawling into bed in that lonely old house taunted him.

He wanted to join her. Hold her. Make sure she was all right tonight.

But that would be risky for him.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in danger as he walked back to his SUV.