Bodyguard/Husband (20 page)

“It’s barely seven o’clock,” Jack started, but she quelled him with a glance.

Jack cursed himself for forgetting that Danny’s casebook was in his jacket pocket. He looked at the leather-bound book Holly clutched. He knew he should have told her about Danny, but damn it, was this case destined to strip away every last vestige of privacy he had? He’d barely talked about his friend’s death to anyone, even to Decker.

All he’d wanted to do was come here and solve this case for Danny’s sake, then leave. He hadn’t wanted to reveal his personal grief about his friend’s death, or his guilt that he hadn’t responded in time to save Danny’s life. He certainly hadn’t wanted to get emotionally involved with the stalking victim.

The memory of last night pummeled him.

Too late now.
He was involved. Nothing had ever affected him like making love with Holly. Her loving, tender touch had healed a wound inside him that had ached for a long, long time.

A change in her manner drew his attention. She’d bowed her head and her body had drawn in on itself.

“No,” she whispered. “Oh, Debi, no. When?” Her breath escaped in a sob.

The shock and anguish on her features ripped at Jack’s newly raw emotions. He knew what she was hearing by the naked anguish in her eyes. Her great-aunt had died. Not knowing what to do, he stepped toward her, reaching for the phone. He could at least talk to Debi, find out what happened.

But Holly backed away. Amber flame lit her tear-filled eyes, warning him not to come any closer.

“Twenty minutes ago? How’s Uncle Virgil?” she said, then bit her lip as she listened to the answer. “I’ll be right there, okay? You wait for me. I’ll take care of everything.” She set the phone down, then stared at it for a few seconds.

She took a deep breath and faced Jack, her expression serene, but sadness darkening her eyes to maple-syrup brown.

“Your aunt?” Jack asked unnecessarily.

“She died about twenty minutes ago. I should have stayed.” The simple words condemned him and the things they had done in the night.

“There was nothing you could have done.”

Her jaw twitched. “You obviously don’t know anything about family,” she accused him. “I could have
been there.
” Her lower lip trembled, but she clenched her fists and raised her chin.

She was holding onto control with a fierceness that Jack had not seen in anyone he’d ever known. He thought she might break, she was wound so tight.

“You need to let go,” he whispered. “It’s okay to cry.”

Her breath caught in a sob, and she lifted one hand without releasing her fist at all. “I—can’t—let—go.” She shook her head. “If I do—” She met his gaze, hers filled with terror.

“If you do, I’ll be here to catch you.” He reached out to her, and this time, although she didn’t yield, she didn’t back away. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, hardly even touching her, just surrounding her with whatever support he could offer.

She was so stiff. So afraid. So alone. He knew how she felt.

For the first time since he could remember, Jack wished for the courage to connect with someone emotionally. He forced his memory back to the days after his mother’s murder. The terrifying loneliness, the empty ache that he’d known even then would never go away. And he thought about what might have helped him. He hugged her just a little tighter.

Holly didn’t bend.

“I know you’re scared,” he said. “I know it hurts. Let go for a minute. There’s nobody here but you and me. Nobody will know. Nobody will see.”

She crumpled then, and he caught her, pulling her close, cradling her head, murmuring things to her that he’d wished someone had said to him, finding that saying them to her helped him, too. The ache of loneliness inside him shifted, morphed into yearning—a yearning to share her pain and thereby lessen it. “It’s okay. You can be brave and strong later. Right now just lean on me.”

Holly’s arms came up around his neck and she clung to him. The feel of her embrace, of her wet face
pressed into the hollow of his shoulder, built in him the urge to make the world right for her.

And somehow, she’d made him actually offer a hug. What was she doing to him?

Holly wanted to sink into Jack’s strong, invulnerable chest and hide there. But she couldn’t. Her beloved aunt was dead. Holly had responsibilities. She needed to check on Uncle Virgil and Debi, start making arrangements for the funeral, prepare Uncle Virgil’s house for the dozens of visitors who would be showing up with casseroles and sympathy.

She didn’t have time to indulge in self-pity. She pushed away and wiped her eyes.

“I’ve got to get ready. I should already be there. I need to help Debi with arrangements.” Instead she’d spent the night here, indulging herself in forbidden delights with a man who was here for only one reason, to assuage his guilt about not saving his friend.

Her anger returning, she stepped out of reach of his embrace. “Here,” she said, thrusting Danny’s casebook toward him. “You might need this.”

She walked past him, out of the room.

Jack watched her, weighing the damning evidence of the book in his hand. He had no excuse but his own cowardice for keeping the information from her. He’d been trying so hard to stay behind his emotional shield that he’d done the unforgivable. He’d lost the trust of the person he’d sworn to protect. And that wasn’t all.

His fear may have lost him the one person in the world who could teach him how to love.

His cell phone rang. It was Decker.

“Jack, the locals in Jackson are planning to pick up
Sheffield either today or tomorrow.”

“Great. Tell them to call me. I’ll drive up—” He stopped. He had no idea what was expected of him as Holly’s husband. But he knew she was going to need him.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? His number one priority was catching the killer. He’d like to be there to give Holly emotional support, but what she really needed from him was to be free of this madman.

“Jack?”

“Tell them I want him brought in for questioning. I don’t care what they charge him with. I’ll drive up.”

Jack turned off the phone and went to get dressed. He came out of the guest room about the time Holly emerged from her room.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel kind of numb. I have to go. There are arrangements to be made with the funeral home and the florist. And people will be coming by the hospital and Uncle Virgil’s house. Are you going with me?” she asked.

“Of course. I’m your husband.”

She frowned at his words, and he knew she needed a real husband to help her through this grief-laden time. But he wasn’t a real husband, and before the day was over, he was probably going to have to leave her alone.

“Holly, I’ll help in any way I can. But if I get a call I’ll need to drive in to Jackson. They’re pulling Donald Sheffield in for an interview. This may be our first good lead in your case.”

She stared at him, fear shadowing her sad eyes, and
he wished he had more to offer her. He wished he had the courage to be a real husband, to give her more than just the facts.

He wished he had the courage to give her his love.

Chapter Eleven

Friday, June 27

“Not a word She said, but, in a gentle humbled way,
(As one who had forgot herself in grief)”

Ah, my dearest love, it hurts me so to see you grieve. I want to reveal all, to stand beside you proudly as your true love. I long to help you bear this grief. But no, not yet. It would not be seemly, so close to death.

“Yet I will but say what mere friends say,
Or only a thought stronger;
I will hold your hand but as long as all may,
Or so very little longer!”

I will play the part of the helpful friend, but you will know and I will know, that soon all pretense will be over and we will finally live as one.

E
VEN KNOWING
how well respected Uncle Virgil and Aunt Bode were in Maze, Holly was still overwhelmed by the outpouring of sympathy and caring from their friends and neighbors. There had been a constant stream of visitors bringing food and offering condolences.

Jack had been by her side all day yesterday, quietly
supportive. Although Holly could tell he’d never been in this situation before, he’d helped her make all the necessary arrangements with calm efficiency, earning him a new level of respect, as well as her everlasting gratitude. She noticed that he never let down his guard, though. He observed everyone he met with his sharp eagle’s gaze.

This morning, however, he’d gotten a call and had to leave to go in to Jackson. She had hoped he’d make it back in time for the viewing at the funeral home this evening, but he hadn’t.

Now, two hours later, as she stood in the living room of Uncle Virgil’s house, accepting hugs and comforting pats as people came and went, she found herself observing her neighbors and acquaintances like she never had before. Being around Jack had given her a new, suspicious perspective.

Jack’s words echoed in her ears.
You need to observe, analyze, catalog. The person who is stalking you could be your grocery clerk, your best friend, your pastor.

As she nodded and smiled at neighbors’ comments about how natural Bode looked or how well Virgil was holding up, she observed, and tried to curb her apprehension. One of these people was a murderer.

She also kept an eye on Uncle Virgil. He was restless, wandering back and forth from one room to another, talking to friends, shaking hands, nodding and smiling his gruff, warm smile. Occasionally he would wipe away a tear or pull out his handkerchief.

Debi continued to surprise Holly. She had blossomed in the role of gracious hostess. She made sure every guest was greeted at the door and that every dish was labeled and listed for thank-you notes later.

Mrs. Ross, Holly’s neighbor, sought her out. “Where’s your husband, Holly?” she asked, her birdlike eyes darting here and there. Holly figured Mrs. Ross had the concept of cataloging every person down pat.

“He had to be in Jackson today. He’ll be here soon.”

Mrs. Ross snorted. “He should be by your side at a time like this. Not a very considerate husband, if you ask me.”

“Actually, Mrs. Ross, he was by my side all day yesterday, helping me make the arrangements. And he’s a wonderful husband. He’s a very good cook, too.”
And a better lover.
She wished she had the nerve to say that out loud to the woman. It was something her aunt Bode would have said.

Holly smiled to herself as she remembered how carefree and flamboyant her great-aunt had been. Mrs. Ross gave her an odd look and skittered away to speak to someone else.

Holly had started across the room to check on Uncle Virgil, when a hand on her arm stopped her.

“Holly.”

It was Earl Isley, the insurance salesman she’d dated once.

“Earl,” she said, giving him a frozen smile. “How nice of you to come.” Earl was just an inch or two taller than her, and nice looking, with a spare tire at his waist. He’d moved to Maze several years ago, after his divorce. His wife and two kids lived in Hattiesburg.

Holly had never thought of him as other than a nice, boring guy. But tonight, recalling what Jack had told her about the insurance policies, she cautiously took a step back from his too-close stance.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt. Virgil came to me a few years ago when Mrs. McCray started becoming forgetful. He wanted to make sure their insurance covered home care.”

Holly nodded. “I know,” she said. “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“I made a special effort to be here. I usually spend Tuesdays and Fridays with my kids.” He smiled, and his eyes flickered down the front of her dress and back up.

Holly nodded, trying to be polite, but edging away from him. Then what he’d said hit her. “Tuesdays and Fridays?”

Jack considered Earl Isley a suspect, since she’d included his name on her list. He could be her stalker. He had all the attributes. He was quiet. His job certainly wasn’t fraught with stress.

Maybe she could find out some information from him. “Your children live in Hattiesburg?”

“With their mother. It’s not a bad drive. Take Tuesday for instance. I took them to see a silent film,
The General
with Buster Keaton. Then we had pizza. They love to eat pizza late at night, although their mother claims it keeps them from sleeping.”

Holly’s pulse beat in her temples. Had she just learned a vital clue? If Earl was in Hattiesburg eating pizza with his kids, he couldn’t have been the driver of Miss Emma Thompson’s car. Or was he trying too hard, providing an alibi when no one had asked for one?

“Thanks, Earl, for taking time away from your kids to visit. But I really must pay attention to the other guests.”

Holly hurried toward Uncle Virgil, feeling Earl Isley’s gaze tickling the back of her neck like a spider’s web.

W
HEN
J
ACK GOT BACK
to Maze after eight o’clock, he headed toward Virgil’s house. Holly had told him the viewing at the funeral home would be from five until seven. Afterwards, people would gather at her Uncle’s house for visitation.

The evening was overcast, the promise of rain hanging heavily in the air. Jack positioned the air conditioner vent so it blew on his face. It had been a long and frustrating day.

By the time he’d gotten to Jackson, the detectives had picked up Sheffield. Ironically, they’d hauled him in for violating his restraining order. When the police had finally tracked him down, he’d been at the apartment of the woman who’d taken the order out against him.

As soon as Jack identified himself as FBI, Sheffield had requested a lawyer. While Jack waited for the court-appointed lawyer to free up some time, he’d gone to visit the ex-girlfriend. She was a textbook partner in an abusive relationship. She swore to him that Sheffield had changed, and that she was having the restraining order removed. Sheffield had promised he’d never hit her again, as long as she stayed faithful.