Читать книгу Deep Cover - Sandra Orchard - Страница 11

Unable to stop trembling, Ginny could only watch as Mom soothed Lori’s whimpers. Lord, help me to help them. Give me strength.

Rick rummaged through the kitchen drawers.

“What are you doing? Don’t you want to read the note?”

He pulled out a plastic bag and then carefully clasped the corner of the paper scrunched in her hand. “The police may be able to lift fingerprints. I don’t want to add more.”

As if she might take back her own fingerprints, Ginny swiped her hand down her shirt. A tangled clump of string slipped to the floor like the sinking awareness she couldn’t undo her mistake.

Rick dropped the note into the bag, using the plastic to smooth the paper flat.

Two words scrawled in red ink screamed at Ginny all over again. I know.

Rick flipped over the bag, but from the way his jaw clenched he hadn’t known another message was scrawled on the back.

One way or the other, HE WILL PAY.

Lori let out a ragged sob.

Rick shooed Mom and Lori out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry. Whoever threw that rock clearly had the wrong house.”

Desperate to stop shaking, Ginny grabbed the broom.

Rick’s attention jerked toward her. “No.” He took the broom, curled his arm around her shoulder and drew her away from the debris. “The police will want to see everything as it is. Did you notice anyone suspicious hanging around the area this evening?”

“The car.”

“What car?”

“A boxy gray car. It skulked past when you were fixing my window switch. I’ve seen it before, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t talking to you!”

Rick led her to the phone and dialed 9-1-1, but even with his strong arm secured around her shoulders, she couldn’t stop shaking. Maybe because his detailed answers to the dispatcher’s questions reinforced her growing realization of how little she knew him. One minute he was hanging with gangs. The next he was taking charge, making her want to depend on him.

Gangs. She shrank from his hold, snatched up the note and thrust it toward his chest. “This was meant for you, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?”

He glanced at the hole where the kitchen window used to be and motioned for her to lower her voice. “Why would you think that?”

“Because no he lives in this house. And you were the one standing in my kitchen when the rock came through the window.”

“But the ‘he’ in this note could refer to …” He hesitated. “Anyone.”

“The note says ‘I know,’ as in I know your secret. How did you think you’d get away with pretending to be Duke in this town?”

“I’m a construction worker. No one’s gonna connect me to a guy you dated over a year ago.”

“You are seriously deluded. You know that? Lori blurted your name in the middle of the town hall.” Ginny pointed to the glass scattered across the counters and floor. “Look at this mess. Someone besides me and my uncle knows your secret. What does this person want?”

Rick’s eyes shuttered.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Take it easy,” he said. “If whoever threw that rock heard Lori call me Rick, he might think he holds some power over me, but he doesn’t. Your uncle knows why I’m using an alias. Our rock thrower doesn’t scare me.”

“Well, he scares me. Isn’t it bad enough that you railroaded your way back into our lives without a thought to the emotional havoc you’d wreak on … on Lori? You had to go and bring physical danger to our doorstep, too.”

“No, never. I would never—never—endanger you or your family.” He cradled her face between his palms, begging her to trust him.

Every whisper of love she’d blocked from her mind rushed to the surface. Months of longing, fighting dreams of what might have been, filled her. She stiffened against the onslaught. She couldn’t risk letting him into her life again. He was too good at making her depend on him. And too good at letting her down.

“Please, believe me. That note and rock have nothing to do with me.”

She pushed his hands away. “Prove it.”

The sound of approaching sirens resonated through the room. For a moment, Rick looked as if he might say something, but then his expression hardened. His fists clenched.

“You can’t, can you? Because you know I’m right.”

“I’m here because I want to help you. I promise you the rock has nothing to do with me. Ginny,” he said and the low, intimate pitch of his voice trembled through her. “If you ever cared for me at all, trust me.”

She crossed her arms. All she had to do was look at the glass splintered across the floor to know he couldn’t be trusted. “No, Rick, that’s the one thing I won’t do. Ever again.”

Standing in the parking lot of the construction site, Rick shook the building inspector’s hand. Too bad convincing Ginny to trust him wasn’t as easy as convincing the inspector to rubber-stamp the proposed changes. But divulging what he knew about Laud could’ve backfired big-time, especially when she hadn’t given a second’s consideration to the possibility that the “he” in the note might be her uncle. Rick should just be thankful she didn’t share her suspicions of him with the local cops.

He flagged the cement truck to a stop and aimed the trough into a basement window.

If he did his job right, Lori would get her group home and he’d keep them all safe from the danger surrounding her uncle. If only he’d found a match for the partial thumbprint forensics lifted from the note. The fact it didn’t match Laud’s prints or those of any of the cons Rick had sent to jail, or anyone else’s in the police database, was a minor consolation.

Rick blew out a breath and focused on the steady swish of cement. Despite what he’d told Ginny’s family, he was certain the rock had been meant for them. And since nothing in the note alluded to a beef with the group-home construction, he was ninety-nine percent sure Laud’s creditors were the instigators—upping the stakes to convince Laud to pay. But knowing that didn’t help keep Ginny safe. Not when she didn’t want Rick within ten miles of her.

He massaged the kink in his neck from too many nights sleeping in his truck outside her place. In the week and a half since she’d been on this project, Ginny had managed to get her name and photograph into every newspaper in the region and had even scored an interview on the local cable station to rally support. What part of “keep a low profile” didn’t she understand?

If he hoped to keep her out of harm’s way, he needed to secure her cooperation, whether she trusted him or not.

His cell phone rang. The caller ID said private, which meant Captain Drake. Rick motioned for Phil to take over the cement trough. Then, with a finger in one ear and his phone to the other, Rick put fifty yards between him and his men. “Talk fast.”

“There was another fire last night. In Harbor Creek.”

Rick balled his hand. Had his preoccupation with Ginny caused him to miss something?

He tore off his hard hat. Obviously, he’d missed something. Laud had been close-lipped the past couple of weeks, but … “Harbor Creek? That makes no sense. Laud’s Harbor Creek complex is already half-filled with tenants. Paying tenants.”

“The building wasn’t Laud’s.”

“What?”

“You heard me. The fire marshal thinks we have a serial arsonist on our hands.”

“We already know that.” Rick watched the truck’s tumbler rotate and feared his leads were drying up faster than the cement. “Why would Laud burn down someone else’s building?”

“I’m not convinced he’s our man.”

“Oh, he’s dirty.”

“Doesn’t make him an arsonist.”

“You saw the files. You know I’m right. Harbor Creek could be a copycat.”

Drake blew out a stream of air. “I know Tom was your friend, but you need to let this go. You’ve got nothing that will stand up in court.”

“No, I’ll never let this go.” Not as long as Laud walked free, free to destroy another family for his own selfish ends.

Drake’s voice took on the steel edge that meant obey or else. “I’ll give you two weeks.”

Two weeks—Rick needed all of that to finish the group home, then some. He pocketed his phone and walked back to his crew. Half were local family men, but two or three of the others had criminal records. Men Laud might coax to do his dirty work.

Vic, an ex-con Rick once helped send to jail, gave him a curious look.

Two months undercover on Vic’s case had netted a warehouse stuffed with stolen high-end car parts and a five-year sentence for Vic—lots of time for a man to stew over who put him there. Heat pulsed through Rick’s veins. Just because he’d kept his identity concealed at the trial didn’t mean Vic hadn’t figured out who sprang the trap.

Rick’s mind flashed to the note—I know.

No. The rock thrower was too small to be Vic. Rick slapped on his hard hat. Besides, he’d checked on the whereabouts that night of every crew member. Vic had been at the bar on Fifth.

Rick would keep his eye on him all the same. He might be ninety-nine percent certain that Laud’s creditors were behind the attack, but until he neutralized that other one percent no one was above suspicion.

After work Rick headed to Laud’s office to test his reaction to the news of last night’s fire. The glass structure stood like a giant prism reflecting the orange sun. In addition to Laud’s BMW, a gray Buick sat in the lot. Rick grabbed the construction blueprints to give the impression his visit concerned the project and strode toward the front doors.

A short guy, rumpled suit, slicked hair, averted his gaze and hurried out as Rick reached the door. The guy cut across the lawn and climbed into a dark sedan parked down the street.

Rick couldn’t make out the license plate.

A new receptionist, Laud’s third in as many months, sat at the desk facing the entrance. “Hi, I’m Duke Black, Laud’s foreman.”

The redhead looked up and Rick’s heart stopped for a full two beats.

Her face had hollowed out, leaving her eyes shadowed. And her hair.

The sun glinted off the short spikes like fiery flames. Her hair used to be brown.

A stab of guilt knifed his gut. How could he have let more than a month lapse since his last visit to Tom’s widow?

“Mary? What are you doing here?”

“Duke?” A hint of laughter colored the question. “Is that the best name you could come up with?” She shook her head. “You guys always did act like John Wayne wannabes.”

“Hey, I use whatever name they give me.” He glanced at Laud’s closed door and lowered his voice. “You know how it works.”

She matched his tone, and something about her—something more than the hair—seemed different. “So you’re investigating my boss? What for?”

“Like I said, you know how this works.” If she knew who Laud was and why Rick was here, she wouldn’t be within a hundred miles of this place.

“Sure, I understand. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

He slanted another glance down the hallway. “You can look for another job.”

“Please don’t tell me that. It took me two months to find this one. Miller’s Bay isn’t exactly an employment hub.”

“I thought you and Meaghan moved to Toronto.”

“We couldn’t. My in-laws petitioned for custody and won. At least temporarily.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They warned me the day of Tom’s funeral they’d do it. I know I’m only Meaghan’s stepmom, but I never thought the judge would …” Mary dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Tom’s folks never liked me.”

Rick wanted to argue, but he’d seen enough of their attitude to suspect she was right. “If there’s anything I can do, just ask.”

“Thanks. Just so you know, I’m using my maiden name. My references were from before I married Tom.”

“Crantz, got it. We can say we know each other from high school. You can answer one question for me. Who was the guy who cut out of here a few minutes ago?”

“Our salesman, Samuel Jones.”

At the end of the hallway, Laud’s door opened. He rushed toward the exit, glancing at Rick’s blueprints as he passed by. “I’ve no time to talk now. I’m late for an appointment. Mary, lock up when you leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Mary turned her attention back to Rick. “I was on my way to the diner for supper. Care to join me?”

Rick thought about the leads he wanted to chase down tonight and resisted the temptation to involve Mary, but when she turned hopeful eyes his way he didn’t have the heart to say no.

Ginny slowed her car to make the turn into the parking lot of Hank’s Diner.

In the passenger seat, her friend Kim pointed to someone coming out the side door. “Hey, isn’t that your foreman guy?”

Despite Ginny’s resolve to keep her relationship with Rick strictly business, her heart fluttered at the prospect of running into him.

Kim rubbed her hands together a little too gleefully. Dressed in her usual fitness wear with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked like a kid with way too much mischief in her genes. “Ooh, this will be so much fun. We can walk over to him all nonchalant-like and—” Kim grabbed Ginny’s arm. “Stop. Don’t turn. He’s with another woman!”

Ginny punched the gas and sped away. “What am I doing? Why should I care if he’s with another woman?”

“Oh, come on. You haven’t stopped talking about him since he got to town.”

“Complaining about someone is not the same as liking them.” Okay, maybe after his hundred and one courtesy calls—updates on the investigation and pleas to lay low—had begun to peter out, she’d actually started to miss hearing from him. But all she had to do was picture that rock smashing through her window to remember why she shouldn’t.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t want him because some redhead has already snatched him up.”

Ginny veered into the next parking lot, turned around and headed back to the diner.

Kim toppled against the car door. “What are you doing?”

“Going to eat. Where we’d planned.” She lifted her chin, ignoring the erratic thud in her chest. She couldn’t avoid him forever, especially if she wanted to stay in the loop on their investigation. She just needed to resist his charm, and with another woman in the picture and Kim at her side that’d be a cinch.

“You go, girl,” Kim shouted, punching the air like the teen delinquents she supervised down at the detention center. “Just play it cool,” she added in her coaching voice. “If there’s anything serious going on between Duke and the redhead, he’ll avoid you like rotten meat.”

“Hmm, thanks for that picture.” Ginny parked and wiped her sweaty palms down her slacks. Then, wearing a carefree smile she didn’t feel but hoped Rick would believe, she wandered toward the pair.

Rick’s tan had darkened, and his hair, a little longer now, looked good, really good. He’d lost the moustache, too, which afforded a perfect view of his dimples.

Dimples that, when he turned to Ginny, made her heart do jumping jacks.

Jumping jacks that must’ve rattled loose a few brain cells because instead of calling to mind the sounds of shattering glass, all she could hear were whispers telling her that maybe he’d told the truth. Maybe whoever tossed that rock at her window had targeted the wrong house. After all, nothing bad had happened since. Maybe Rick had changed.

“Ginny!”

The delight in his voice sent a delicious shiver down her spine. She waved and tried to find a way to meet his gaze that didn’t betray the letdown of seeing him with another woman.

“Have you met Miss Crantz?” he asked. “She’s your uncle’s new administrator.”

“Oh, yes.” Ginny’s voice lifted with that news flash. “We’ve talked on the phone.”

From the formal way Rick introduced the woman, coupled with the intensity with which he held Ginny’s gaze, Ginny would’ve believed there was nothing between the two, until Miss Crantz swatted his arm in the playful way only close friends do.

“You’d think he was introducing his teacher. We’ve known each other since high school.” She reached out and shook Ginny’s hand. “Please, call me Mary.”

Ginny smiled. At least she hoped it was a smile because she couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. And Kim was no help—hanging back, pretending to be absorbed by a text message.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” Rick said in a voice as warm and inviting as hot apple cider on a cold winter’s day.

Mary glanced from Rick to Ginny to Kim and back to Rick. “I think that’s my cue to get going. Thanks for dinner, Duke.”

“I’ve gotta go, too,” Kim chimed in.

Ginny grabbed Kim’s arm. “What about dinner?”

“Uh … I forgot that I promised one of the teens at the detention center that I’d help … uh … dye her hair. Yeah, that’s right, dye her hair. I’m sure Duke will be happy to keep you company,” Kim added with a you-can-thank-me-later lilt.

The one-sided quirk of Rick’s lips made Ginny’s heart cartwheel. She tightened her grip on Kim’s arm. “No, you can’t go.” The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with Rick. “I drove you. Remember?”

Kim waved off the objection. “Not a problem. I can walk. I’m sure you won’t miss me.”

“No, I can’t let—”

Rick tapped her shoulder. “Stay,” he said. “We need to talk.” Except this time his tone didn’t sound so inviting.