All The Stars In Heaven (28 page)

Chapter Fifty-Three

The grandfather clock chimed as Jay wedged Spiderman handle grips onto the bike. His eyes locked with Sarah’s as they listened to nine peals.

“I don’t suppose you’re still in the mood to . . .”

Her face, much calmer than it had been half an hour earlier, was puzzled. “You mean it goes away for you?”

Jay laughed and grabbed for her, but she jumped up, moving out of his reach. They stood facing each other in front of the Christmas tree.

“As a matter of fact, no,” Jay said. “The feeling of wanting you does not go away for me. It keeps intensifying.”

A smile of relief lit her face. “Me too. I’m glad I’m normal.”

“Want to find out just how normal?” he asked.

She licked her lips then looked at both the clock and the remaining bike parts strewn across the floor. “What about the bikes, Santa?”

“Let the elves finish.” Walking to the media cabinet, Jay searched through the CDs until he found one of Christmas classics. He put it in and turned the volume down low. Returning to the tree, he beckoned her closer with the crook of his finger. She stepped into his embrace.

“I’m about to kiss you for the first time, and you’re not blushing,” he whispered.

She met his gaze. “I’m not embarrassed, just impatient.”

Taking her face in his hands, he tilted his head and bent to kiss her. Her eyes were wide open, looking into his. A millimeter away, he paused. “You’re not supposed to look, you know.”

“Why can’t I watch the best moment of my life?”

He had no answer except to crush his lips against hers in a kiss that felt nothing like the first light touch he’d imagined.

She didn’t seem to mind. Her hands tightened around his neck, pulling him closer while the Carpenters crooned in the background.

At last they broke apart, Sarah’s eyes swimming with tears, Jay sucking in a big lungful of air.

“Wow, that was—” he began, then stopped, noticing her expression. “You’re crying?”

“Happy,” she managed, freeing one hand to wipe at her eyes. “Twenty-four years is a long time to wait for a first kiss.” She smiled through her tears. “But oh, was that worth it. That was the best gift I’ve ever had. Merry Christmas, Jay.”

* * *

Sarah snuggled closer to Jay as they leaned against the sofa on the floor beside the Christmas tree. Their first kiss had been followed by half a dozen more already. It was tempting to add to that number, but she also relished the simple joy of being beside Jay, looking up at the lights twinkling overhead. In the background “The Christmas Song” played softly. For the first time, she felt the magic of the season, the spellbinding miracle of being in love and loved in return. She wished they could stay like this forever.

Jay turned to face her, propping an elbow on the sofa cushion. “Want your Christmas present early?”

“Present?” She sat up quickly, dismay rushing in to drown out the warmth in her heart. “I can’t give you yours yet.”

“You haven’t already?” he teased.

“I thought the kiss was
your
gift for
me,
” she said. “I wrote a song for you. But with the neighbors out and about, I don’t dare play it.”

“You wrote a song for
me?
” he asked, sounding awed. “No one’s ever done anything like that. It must have taken a lot of time.”

“It helped me not miss you so much these past few weeks.”

“You wrote it while you weren’t speaking to me?” Jay asked.

“I finished it then. I couldn’t stand to think that our friendship was over. Doing something for you helped me while I was sorting things out.”

“Friendship, huh?” He sat up, facing her, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, brown envelope. “For the record, I don’t kiss friends the way I just kissed you. I’d like to think we’re a little more—serious.” He placed the envelope in her hand. “This used to be in a nice, white box, but I left it upstairs the night Kirk fixed my shoulder. Jeffrey got a hold of it yesterday. He thought it looked like a sugar cube, so he tried to feed it to his horse.”

“What horse?” Sarah asked.

“James,” Jay said, grinning. “I was just happy Christa caught them before Jeffrey made him chew and swallow the whole thing.”

Sarah laughed as she pulled back the flap and took out a pearl ring set in a silver band. She held it up beside a light on the tree, turning it slowly. “Oh, Jay. It’s beautiful.”

She pulled her gaze from the ring to his face, which was taut with uncertainty. “You’re so thoughtful. I’ve never had a ring—or any jewelry.” She ran her finger over the polished stone.

“I got it at the antique store where I bought your music. I wasn’t intending to get a ring that day, but I saw it, and I imagined it on your finger.” He paused. “Imagined us . . .”

Imagined us what?
Sarah felt half-dazed, half-agitated, like she did when realizing she’d just missed a joke in the lunch conversation.

Jay was still talking, his words rushed together as if he were afraid he wouldn’t be able to get them all out. “Then, when you told me about your mother, I
knew
. So many of my ancestors have this great story of some fateful meeting with the person they were destined to be with. And I never really believed it, but then at the restaurant that night—” He stopped abruptly.

Her fist closed over the ring, and she held it close to her heart as she looked at him. His brow was furrowed with worry. He reached for her left hand, taking it in his.

“You’re like that pearl, Sarah, exquisite and rare, emerging from the shell you’ve been trapped in your whole life.” Jay paused, swallowing. “I was hoping you would do me the honor of wearing the ring and—of someday being my wife.”

“You want to marry me?” She felt her mouth hang open on the last syllable and forced it shut. Never in a million years would she have guessed he would ask her such a thing tonight.

He nodded. “I know it probably seems too fast, too soon, but I love you, Sarah. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.”

And if one of those lives is cut short?
Sarah opened her fist and looked down at the ring resting on her palm as she grappled with her conflicting feelings. She felt overwhelmed—ecstatic. She’d never imagined
anyone
would want to marry her. And to have Jay—whom she loved with her whole heart . . .

“I love you, Jay.” She voiced the emotions she’d felt for weeks but had been too afraid to examine or express. “I’m
in
love with you, but—”

“A convicted felon isn’t what you had in mind?” She heard his doubt and hurt.

“No.”
She brought his hand to her face and held it there. “This has nothing to do with your past and everything to do with right now.” She read the uncertainty in his expression just as she had that night at the restaurant when he’d laid bare his soul, his feelings exposed for her to stomp on or cherish. Seeing this side of him, this vulnerability hovering beneath the surface of the confident man, Sarah’s heart melted.
How many other things don’t I know about you, don’t
you
know about
me
? A ton,
she imagined. They’d covered a lot of territory in the past few months, but there was a lot more to cross. More than anything she wanted to be around to do that, to be with him.

“How can we even think about getting married when our lives are so upside down? When we don’t even know if I’ll be around to meet you at the altar.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Jay said, the confident man back in place. “We’re going to figure out what your dad and cousin are up to. It’s all going to work out.”

“It isn’t just my dad and Carl that I’m worried about,” Sarah said.

“What then?”

She looked down at her lap. “This morning—those men—they weren’t working for my father. When I suggested as much, the one with the UZI laughed. He also told me that if it were up to him, he would have taken care of me right there.” She shuddered, thinking of the scratches on his face and the bullet wound in his hand. “If I run into him again, I have no doubt he’ll do just that.”

Jay’s worried look returned. “Why didn’t you tell Kirk this?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. He was so busy telling
us
things, and my brain was befuddled from being so close to you.” She tilted her head, looking up at him with a half smile.

“You’re befuddled now.” Jay’s free hand tousled her curls. “
Nothing
is going to happen to you. Tomorrow we’ll be in protective custody. That’s big time. And Kirk knows what he’s doing. He’s not your average small-town deputy.”

“Nor are you the average guy,” Sarah said.

“Nor you the average girl.” His eyes followed hers, staring at the hand holding the ring.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admitted, a catch in her voice. “I’m afraid if I say yes—and I
want
to—something else will happen. We went to the Yale game, and Mrs. Larson died in the fire. I convinced Trish and Archer to help me bail you out, and Archer was shot. I stayed with Kirk and Christa, and James was almost kidnapped. What’s going to happen if I agree to marry you?”

“We’re both going to be incredibly happy, that’s what,” Jay said. “We’re not talking about cause and effect here. No matter what we do next, the bad guys are still going to be bad—until they’re caught and brought to justice. And we’re going to help with that.”

“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “We’re both lucky to still be alive, but how much longer can that luck hold out?”

“It wasn’t luck that brought us together. It was fate.” Jay pulled her hands from her face to his and leaned forward, his lips brushing her knuckles. “Destiny, Sarah Morgan. I’m sure of it. But”—he sighed—“if you’re not, we’ll wait. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want. Heaven knows you’ve had enough of that your whole life.”

“I
know
what I want,” she said adamantly. “I want you, and I want to know we’ll both be safe—that I’m not going to lose one more person I love, that I’m not going to cause you any more pain.”

“I’ll give you anything you want, Sarah. I’d get the moon and stars for you if I thought it were possible.”

“I don’t need the moon and stars,” Sarah said. “Just you. Safe.”

“I’m right here.”

She studied the ring in her palm—a
different
ring,
unusual,
like everything about their relationship.
Everything.
Could that include an engagement that involved police warrants, hiding out, protective custody, and the DEA?
If it involves Jay, what else matters?

Sarah took a deep breath and expelled it, letting go of as much of her fear as she could. Her mouth bloomed in a smile as she held the ring out to Jay. “Will you put it on for me?”

“Is that a yes?”

Her eyes sparkled then filled with tears. She nodded and tried to speak, but the lump in her throat reduced her voice to a mere whisper. “Yes, Jay. I’ll marry you. I don’t know when—” She tried to laugh, but instead the tears started spilling down her face. “Or where or how, but I’ll do my best to be around to keep my promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He took her left hand and slipped the ring on her finger. “We’ll wait until this is all over. You’ll have a beautiful gown, and we’ll get married in an ivy-covered church with bells pealing. You’ll get to walk down the aisle on your father’s—” Jay stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” She placed her finger over his lips. “I don’t need all that, don’t even want it really. I
am
different, and I never imagined that I’d get married.” She tilted her head, smiling at him. “But now that we are, I think I’d like our wedding to be outside. We could stand beneath a canopy of stars on a beach looking out to the ocean.” A wistful, faraway look came to her eyes. “Endless possibilities in every direction.”

“Then we’ll wait for your ocean and stars,” Jay said. “I love you, Sarah.”

“I know.” She leaned forward, reaching out to him first, kissing him beneath the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Detective Brandt unwrapped another chocolate Santa and stuffed it in his mouth. He let it melt, enjoying the flavor as long as possible—it was the sixth and last one in the pack. Resting his hands on top of his protruding stomach, he leaned back in his chair and thought about Christmas dinner at his parents’ house. His mom would fix a turkey and a ham, potatoes, gravy, rolls . . . and her pies.
Oh, her pies.
The chocolate was all but forgotten as his mouth watered in anticipation of the first bite of his mother’s pecan tart. In less than an hour he’d be out of here and on his way.

The phone rang, jarring him from his pleasant vision of a table laden with food.

“Can’t leave us alone for even one day.” Grumbling, Brandt pulled himself out of his chair, went to the front counter, and reached for the central line, only to realize it was Detective Anderson’s phone ringing off the hook.
Not my problem. Not gonna answer it,
he thought, returning to his desk to toss the empty candy package in the trash.

The phone stopped ringing. Brandt sat down and took out a crossword puzzle.

Anderson’s phone rang again. Swearing under his breath, Brandt swiveled his chair around and used his feet to roll himself over to his colleague’s desk. He snagged the receiver on the fourth ring. “Summerfield Police Department.”

“Detective Anderson, please.”

“He won’t be in until noon,” Brandt said, remembering how he’d been only too happy to swap shifts with Kirk, who wanted to be with his kids Christmas morning. “Would you like to leave a message?”

There was a pause, then, “Is there another number I can reach him at?”

“He’s got a cell,” Brandt offered.

“I’ve tried that already. He’s not answering, and his home number isn’t listed.”

“Then you’ll have to leave a message,” Brandt suggested, irritated with the demanding voice on the other end.
It’s Christmas, buddy,
he wanted to say.
Whatever has your knickers in a wad can wait a day or two.

“With whom am I speaking?”

“Detective Brandt. Anderson’s my partner most days.”

Another pause. “It’s imperative he get this message. Tell him his appointment is bumped up an hour. I’ll be at the Hancock Building at three o’clock instead of four.”

“Got it,” Brandt said, hanging up before the guy could breathe down his neck anymore. Rolling his chair back to his desk, he remembered the tin of cookies that had been delivered yesterday. He went to the front counter, searching until he found it hidden behind a stack of traffic school forms.

Shoving a pretzel-shaped cookie in his mouth, Brandt scrawled the message across the top of a legal pad, realizing he hadn’t even gotten the guy’s name or a return phone number. He glanced at the caller ID, but it was an unlisted number.

Oh, well.
I’m sure Anderson knows what it’s about.
He tore off the paper and set it down as the front bell jingled and Simmons came in, stamping snow off his shoes.

“Man, nobody got any time off today,” Brandt said.

“I’m covering for Anderson,” Simmons said. “Some family emergency came up. He promised to take my shift on New Year’s Eve.” He pulled the hat from his head, brushing snow from it. “It’s really coming down out there.”

“Great,” Brandt grumbled. “I’ve got a two-hour drive.” The image of his mom’s pie was starting to fade. He had no doubt his brothers would be more than happy to take his share if he was late.

“Why don’t you get out of here now?” Simmons suggested. “I’m a little early, and I think the chief’s even coming in today. I’m sure we can handle the turkey that explodes or the fight that breaks out between Aunt Millie and Cousin Ed.”

“Thanks.” Brandt didn’t need any more urging. Chief Morgan might be a little peeved when he came in, but with his daughter missing he’d been in a constant state of agitation anyway. Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, Brandt held up a hand in farewell as he left.

Simmons peeled his coat off, poured a cup of stale coffee, and riffled through the cookie tin to see if there was anything good left. He picked up a ginger snap and bit into it, sprinkling crumbs across the counter. He brushed them away, noticing a piece of paper in the process. He glanced at the note in Brandt’s handwriting.

Hancock bld. 3:00, not 4

“Must be for the boss,” Simmons mused as he stuck the paper in Chief Morgan’s inbox.

* * *

Kirk turned in a slow circle, taking in his wrecked living room. The Christmas tree was overturned, the bookshelves emptied, papers and toys everywhere.
Christa is going to freak out.
He bent down, picking up a large piece of glass from a broken lamp. Foolish, he knew, when he ought to call in a team to collect evidence for fingerprints. But he wasn’t sure if that was a wise thing to do. Returning to the kitchen—the least damaged room, he’d discovered on his initial search—he poured himself a glass of milk from an unopened jug and sat down to think.

Christa and the boys were safe—for now—with his aunt in Worcester.

Jay and Sarah were on their way to meet DEA agent Judd Doyle, and then they would be safe.

But someone had come here for them, and that someone was likely associated with Chief Morgan. And if he knew . . . Kirk sighed, wondering if he’d already worked his last day for the Summerfield Police Department.
For
any
police department.
He was going to have to be very careful. But, as he’d told Jay and Sarah, there was no turning back now. A lot more than his career was at stake. The only thing to do was see this through.

Kirk got up and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. He pulled a pair of disposable gloves from a box by the dish drainer and took a plastic grocery bag from the recycle bin. He’d be his own evidence team. He’d send whatever he collected to Doyle. If the Summerfield police chief was corrupt, who was to say the chief in Cambridge wasn’t as well?

Starting in the bedroom Kirk cataloged everything he could think of that was missing, though surprisingly, it wasn’t much. He’d had the foresight to take his laptop and guns with him last night, and Jay and Sarah hadn’t left any evidence of their stay downstairs. It seemed the intruders’ motive had been to threaten instead of steal.

Kirk worked his way to the living room, filling the bag with broken things that had obviously been handled. Satisfied that he had about as much as he was going to get, he picked up the bag and turned to go out the front door.

As he touched the knob he paused, thinking something else was amiss. Turning back, he looked at the wall over the couch. A chill swept over him as he took in the collage of pictures.

The middle one of his family was gone.