Читать книгу The Man Behind the Badge - Sharon Archer - Страница 8
CHAPTER THREE
ОглавлениеTOM fell into step with Jack as they walked towards the bright lights at the hospital entrance.
‘Here are Kayla’s keys.’ Jack held out his hand.
‘Thanks,’ Tom said, spotting his quarry as soon as he stepped through the sliding door into the emergency depart ment.
Tall and straight in the shapeless green theatre pants and top, Kayla still looked entirely too appealing. Her pale face turned towards them. When she realised it was him, an interesting shade of pink bloomed along her cheek bones and her eyes darkened to stormcloud grey. He might have flattered himself that his appearance had that effect—except for the ferocious frown that pleated her forehead a split second later.
‘Uh-oh, looks like you’re in the dogbox, mate,’ murmured Jack beside him as they walked towards her.
‘Hey, Kayla.’ Jack stooped to kiss her cheek.
‘Hello, Jack.’
‘Is Liz around?’
‘She’s in the tearoom with her feet up. I think she’ll be glad to go home.’
‘That’s what I’m here for. Catch you two kids later.’ Jack grinned at the two of them and winked.
Tom watched the expressions flit over her face as her eyes followed Jack. Then suddenly she turned to face him, her silvery eyes impaling him, her mouth firm.
‘My keys, please, Sergeant?’
He juggled them in his hands, tossing them from one to the other. ‘Have you been cleared by your doctor…
Doctor?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He tilted his head and considered her. ‘So, your near collapse was because…?’
Her lips thinned and for a moment he thought she’d refuse to answer. He almost relished the opportunity to lock horns with her.
‘Low blood sugar. Tiredness. Getting up too quickly. I prescribed myself a cup of tea and grilled cheese on toast while I waited for you to return my keys.’ She held out her hand. ‘And now I’d like to go home to bed.’
Tom’s fingers clutched the keys as he bit back a tempting retort. She did not mean anything by her comment. It was not an opening or an offer. If he was a gentleman, he would definitely let that slide through to the keeper.
He cleared his throat and dangled the keys. ‘In that case…’
As she reached out, he caught her hand, gently turning it over and depositing the keys on her palm with studied care. He curled her fingers over them one at a time as he held her eyes with his.
‘Thank you.’ She tugged lightly and when he didn’t release her, she narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Was there something else…Sergeant?’
‘Yes, there is. Kayla.’ He let his tongue linger over the syllables of her name. ‘You get a good night’s sleep.’
He felt her hand twitch in his, saw a flare of awareness in her eyes. And something else. A starkness, a vulnerability.
Surely she wasn’t afraid of him. He released his grip and her hand dropped to her side.
‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
She turned away, walking quickly, her movements oddly jerky as though she was having trouble co-ordinating her limbs. As though she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
He wasn’t used to having that sort of effect on women. He knew, without conceit, that he was reasonably good looking. Kayla Morgan was indifferent, immune. No, more than that—she seemed to find him downright distasteful. Damn it, she didn’t know him well enough to feel that way about him. It rankled, made him want to get in her way, be hard to ignore.
Hands on hips, he watched until she was several metres away then he called softly, ‘Kayla?’
The stiff stride halted. ‘Yes?’
He waited, the silence stretched. She pivoted to look at him with obvious reluctance. ‘What did you want?’
There it was again, that hint of defencelessness, of desperately masked fear. It reached out and touched him. Made him want to gather her close, shield her from whatever was troubling her. Which was difficult because he seemed to be the main cause of her stress right now. How could he protect her from himself?
‘Come and see me at the station this week. I need you to make a statement about the accident.’
‘Oh. Yes.’ She swallowed, relief patent on her face. ‘All right.’
‘Goodnight.’ He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
‘‘Night.’ And she was moving away from him again. A couple of steps later she stopped. He could almost see an internal battle being waged as she looked over her shoulder then turned to face him. ‘I should thank you for your assistance tonight.’
‘Should you?’
‘Yes, I should,’ she said firmly, squaring her shoulders. Her bearing reminded him of his nephew’s attitude when he’d had to apologise for a serious transgression. Courage, trepidation and determination not to flinch from an unpleasant task. No prizes for guessing what, or who, was the distasteful thing in this case. ‘You were great at the accident. Thank you, Sergeant.’
‘Happy to help…Doctor.’
With a quick nod, she spun around and moved away, without hesitating this time.
Why was he doing this to himself? Kayla was giving him red lights all the way. Yet he felt compelled to keep pushing, to try to get close.
She was confident and competent when doing her job, but so vulnerable and prickly with him when dealing with him on a personal level.
He watched until she moved out of sight without looking back then he huffed out a breath. He’d thought she might look back at him, give him some indication that she knew he was still standing there. A vain hope.
He hunched his shoulders. Perhaps he should back off, let it go. Kayla was Liz’s friend. Liz would skewer him if he upset her. The whole thing was complicated.
‘Earth to Tom?’
He turned to find Liz watching him, curiosity and concern in her eyes. He wondered how long she’d been standing there, what she’d read on his face. She glanced along the corridor to where Kayla had disappeared.
‘Jack was looking for you,’ he said quickly into the brief silence.
‘He found me. Tony just collared him about something so I came on ahead.’ She paused. ‘We stabilised your accident victim and sent him off to Melbourne. I organised that blood test for his alcohol level, too.’
‘Good, thanks.’
‘Tom…about Kayla…’
‘What about her?’ He tried to sound casual but knew he hadn’t succeeded by Liz’s troubled expression.
‘Tom, I love you very dearly and I’m telling you as a friend. Kayla’s not up to your weight.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Don’t you?’ she said dryly. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at her. And not just today.’
‘Well, she’s not looking back so you can put your mind at ease.’
‘Perhaps.’ Liz looked along the corridor again. ‘Kayla’s my friend, Tom.’
‘I know. I’m just having a hard time picturing the two of you as pals. You seem like an unlikely pair.’
‘She came to my rescue when a charming date spiked my drink. I was in first year at uni and pretty green. Kayla stood up to him and took me to hospital. She looked after me, Tom, even though we didn’t know each other.’ Liz’s eyes examined his face as she spoke. ‘She didn’t have to get involved and yet she chose to. She was a better friend to me that night than all my so-called close friends.’
He rubbed his jaw. This picture of the valiant, loyal, caring Kayla was incredibly attractive. All the qualities a man could ask for in a potential life partner.
‘Why is she here in Dustin?’
‘You know why she’s here.’ Liz patted her protruding stomach and looked smug. ‘She’s working while I’m on maternity leave.’
‘But you’re not on leave yet.’
‘True.’ She tilted her head and looked up at him for a long moment. Her eyebrows rose. ‘Why don’t you ask her?’
He grimaced. ‘I would if she wasn’t so damned prickly. She Sergeants me to death and treats me like I’ve got her under bright lights for interrogation.’
‘You can be intimidating.’
‘Nah.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m a SNAG.’
She gave him a droll look. ‘I’ve yet to meet anyone less like a sensitive new-age guy than you. Except maybe Jack.’
Tom laughed. ‘Then I’m in good company.’ He waited a beat then said, ‘So how about it? What’s her story?’
Liz looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You know I won’t tell you that. But I will tell you that it suited both of us for her to come to Dustin early.’ She smoothed her hand over her stomach, a small smile on her mouth. ‘And when my time comes, I know I’m in safe hands with Kayla.’
He grinned as he saw Liz’s husband approaching. ‘Not getting Jack to play midwife for this one?’
‘He’s on standby. But even he admits he’ll be happy to take a back seat for the arrival of future Campbells.’ She grinned up at her husband as he slipped his arm around her waist. ‘Won’t you, darling?’
‘Believe it. You, my sweet, are confined to town for the rest of your pregnancy. A maximum of two kilometres from the hospital at all times.’
‘Uh-uh. There’s the camp draft next weekend. You prom ised.’
‘Only because Kayla’s going. And only because it’s within my fail-safe ten-kilometre radius from the hospital.’
The look that passed between his friends was one of such pure delight that Tom’s heart squeezed. He wanted a woman to look at him like that, as though he was the most important man in her world.
And not just any woman.
He wanted it to be Kayla.
Kayla tugged the front of her shirt, suddenly wishing she’d worn something more substantial than her favourite red shirt. She’d never realised how low the front was, not that it showed cleavage but the respectable square neckline showed an alarming amount of her décolletage. All that bare skin suddenly seemed outrageously provocative. The short, cap sleeves left her arms bare and somehow vulnerable.
And it was red. Sure, it suited her. She’d worn it because red was the colour of confidence and she needed all of that commodity she could muster for this interview. But the colour also screamed, Look over here, look at me in a way that she’d never appreciated before.
If it weren’t for the fact that she was actually standing on the veranda of the police station, she’d have fled home to change her blouse for something black that covered her from hyoid bone to scaphoid. She looked around surreptitiously and, sure enough, there was a security camera at the corner of the roof line. Great, now she probably looked like she was about to commit a felony.
She’d put off this moment as long as she could. The simple task of making the statement had grown into a task of monumental proportions. All she was doing was giving her version of events, for heaven’s sake. A formality. It wasn’t as if the accident was her fault. She’d been sober, driving carefully, and her quick evasive actions had prevented an even more serious situation.
As for Sergeant Jamieson…he was just a man. Doing a job. He wouldn’t bite. He probably wouldn’t even be the person she’d have to deal with so she was getting herself into a lather for nothing. She needed to get a grip, tell the person taking her statement what had happened, answer a few questions. Simple.
She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders then pushed open the door of the police station.
‘Hey, Kayla.’
‘Penny. Hi.’ Kayla grinned at the neatly uniformed woman on duty behind the counter. The tension in her stomach began to smooth out. She could talk to Penny, give her statement, get on the road to Melbourne. She didn’t need to see the sergeant. Reprieve!
‘I hear you’ve got a new fan.’ Penny smiled.
‘Fan?’
‘My niece. Suzy MacIntyre. You saw her the other day.’
‘Oh, of course. She’s a delight.’
‘Isn’t she? She was telling me all about her visit to see you. And how brave she was about her injection and the jelly-bean she chose and the cute little animal stamp you gave her. You know she wouldn’t let poor Sarah wash it off for ages. They had to bathe her and wash around it.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘Now she wants to come back to see you. She said she’d even have another injection if she had to.’
Kayla chuckled.
‘Anyway, you probably haven’t come by to listen to the ramblings of a proud aunty.’ Penny clicked her fingers. ‘Oh, I bet you’re here about Andy’s accident last week.’
‘I’m always happy to listen to proud aunty tales. But, yes, I’ve come to make a statement.’
‘Tom won’t be long. He’s just on a phone call at the moment. Want a coffee?’
‘No, thanks. Do you think…well, could I give you the statement?’
Penny looked doubtful. ‘Tom was very specific about wanting to see you himself. Which is a bit unusual really for something so routine.’
‘It’d be a shame to disturb him.’
‘Uncommonly thoughtful of you, Kayla.’
The deep voice made her jump. Spinning to her left, she met the sergeant’s knowing dark gaze. Heat swept her from head to toe and she felt as though she’d been caught planning something criminal.
He smiled at her. ‘I’m free now. All yours, in fact.’
The skin over her cheek bones was scorching as every particle of heat concentrated in her face. If only it was enough to combust her on the spot.
The dark, narrow-eyed stare raked over her already sensitised skin. ‘You’re looking better than when I last saw you.’
The personal comment allowed her to pull herself together. ‘Really, Sergeant?’
‘Tom. No need to stand on ceremony around here, is there, Penny?’ He smiled warmly at his constable and Kayla’s thought processes stuttered to a halt.
He looked back at her. ‘Want to come this way?’
No. She swallowed and forced her jellied knees to move her forward. The tension in her gut returned with an iron fist, making her glad it had been hours since she’d eaten.
Her heart set up a tattoo of great thumping beats as she followed him along a short corridor. She worked to compose herself, using the techniques that had served her so well for years when dealing with the large threatening males in her life. The usual methods weren’t working.
‘Grab a chair.’ He moved behind the desk to open a filing cabinet and take out a pad.
She perched on the edge of the seat and concentrated on the items on his desk. It was all very tidy. Orderly piles of paper, a container of pens.
Long fingers appeared in her line of vision, selected one of the pens and clicked it ready for use.
‘Tell me in your own words what happened last Sunday night, Kayla. You were returning from Melbourne?’ His smooth, velvety voice invited her to respond.
‘Y-yes.’ She marshalled her thoughts and began to describe the accident.
He made notes as she spoke.
‘So you didn’t see the lights of the car coming down the side road towards you?’ His dark eyes lifted to her face.
The question brought her up short.
‘No. I was…um…distracted.’ On that fateful night, she’d spotted him. In her mind’s eye, she could remember the tall, still figure beside the police vehicle. She’d wondered what he was doing out there in the middle of the night. Heat crept up her neck and it was all she could do not to put her hand to her throat to try to hide the self-betrayal. ‘I had glanced in the side mirror. The—the right-hand one on the…’ She stopped. ‘Right side.’
She was giving too much information, too much detail. Making herself sound like an idiot. Worse, she was drawing his attention and surely making him wonder what she was hiding.
Just as well she’d never contemplated a life of crime. Giving one tiny statement under Sergeant Jamieson’s piercing eyes was turning her into a gibbering wreck.
‘And then what happened?’
‘I—I looked back and the other car was suddenly there, at my left-hand passenger door. I braked hard and swerved to the right side of the road. My car spun when I hit the gravel.’
He led her through several more questions, then she watched as he finished making his notes.
‘Okay, that seems straightforward. I’ll just get you to read through this and sign if you’re happy with what it says.’
‘Okay.’ She took the pages. The short, terse sentences in his powerful, energetic script seemed to leap off the paper at her. She blinked and forced herself to concentrate. ‘I just sign at the bottom?’
‘Yes. You can use my pen.’
The pen was still warm from his fingers. She leaned the paper on the edge of the desk to scrawl her signature then handed the papers back to him.
‘So that’s it?’
‘Pretty much.’ He looked at her. ‘How about a coffee?’
‘Coffee?’
‘Yes. I wouldn’t expect you to drink the station coffee if that’s what you’re worried about.’ He smiled but his eyes were dark, unreadable.
‘Oh, I’m sure it couldn’t be as bad as hospital coffee.’ She stopped, bit her lip. He’d think she wanted to stay for coffee in a minute. ‘Thank you, but, no. I need to get on the road. I’ve got a long drive.’
‘Going to Melbourne for the weekend?’
‘Yes.’ She gathered up her belongings and decided she’d get her car keys out when she got to her car.
His face was perfectly calm but there was an acute-ness about the way he looked at her that made her wonder what he was thinking. Perhaps all policemen cultivated that impression of predatory patience. Waiting to see what might be revealed if they waited long enough. ‘Visiting family?’
‘Yes. No. Sort of.’ Her fingers tightened on her bag.
He raised his eyebrows.
She opened her mouth then shut it. He couldn’t possibly be interested in knowing this was her best friend’s last weekend in Melbourne before she returned to the far-flung reaches of North West Australia.
His curiosity was a policeman’s ingrained habit and she was like Pavlov’s dog. A steady stare from an imposing male wearing dark blue epaulettes and it seemed she was still ready to rush into explanations. Her father had trained her well.
Growing up, she’d tried to tell herself it was a sign of his affection that had made him grill her and her sister. But she’d slowly realised it was an uncanny ability to sniff out the tiniest hint of trouble or rebellion.
A fantastic ability in a policeman.
Utterly crushing in a distant, regimented father.
In the end, she’d realised he’d been determined to crush any tendency his daughters might have harboured towards behaving like normal teenagers. Christopher Morgan had been a man with places to go, in line for promotions. No time for messy family dramas and misbehaviour. No taint of gossip would touch him through his family.
She suddenly realised she’d been sitting in the sergeant’s office for far too long, staring back at him. She shot out of the chair. ‘Well, I won’t let you keep me.’
‘Won’t you?’ He stood more slowly, his eyes hooded, a faint smile on his mouth.
She felt the heat rush into her cheeks when she realised what she’d said. ‘I mean, I won’t keep you.’
He inclined his head. ‘I’ll walk you out.’
‘There’s no need. I can find my own way. Thank you, Sergeant.’
‘Tom.’ His fingers fastened around her arm.
She looked at him blankly, her mind consumed by his touch on the tender skin of her inner elbow.
‘My name is Tom.’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’ She looked at him helplessly.
‘Say it, Kayla.’
She swallowed. The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. Almost as though he was tasting the syllables, trying out the feel of it in his mouth. At the L-sound, she’d been able to see the tip of his tongue touch the edge of his top teeth.
‘Say it,’ he repeated when she remained silent.
‘Tom.’ Her throat had difficulty making the sound and it came out raw and husky. She’d worked so hard not to even think of him by his name, and now he’d made her say it. She felt something akin to despair. Now he was real, now he was a man, not a uniform.
He nodded. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’
He opened his office door and ushered her across to the exit with that gentle but inexorable hold. Her feet moved her along beside him, across the veranda, down the steps to the side of her car. His fingers slid lightly across her elbow joint and finally released her.
He waited while she fumbled in her bag to find her keys to unlock the door. Then he leaned forward to open it for her. ‘Drive carefully, Kayla. See you when you get back next week.’
Not if she saw him first. She slipped into the seat and managed to slide the key into the ignition.
‘Bye, S—’ She gulped the rest of the word when his eyes narrowed. ‘Goodbye, Tom.’
He towered in the opening, one hand on the roof and the other on the door, as though he might say something more. But in the end all he said was, ‘Bye, Kayla.’
He stepped back and shut the door gently.
As she stopped in the driveway to check the way was clear, she caught sight of him in her rear-vision mirror.
Thank goodness she drove an automatic car. It would just be the last straw to grind the gears or bunny-hop out onto the road under his watchful eye.
She didn’t quite know what to make of Tom Jamieson.
But one thing was certain: he was a serious handicap to her enjoyment of Dustin.