Free Falling (6 page)

She sighed again, grabbed the duffel bag that
doubled as a tool bag and trudged through the ankle-deep grass
toward the house. A vehicle pulling into the drive got her
attention but she knew before she looked over her shoulder that it
wouldn’t be Lance. He drove a big, loud Harley.

A black and white police cruiser parked
behind the truck and a spit-polished, all-smiles Phil Gerard
stepped out. Despite Free’s firm resolve not to be mad at him,
irritation made her scalp tingle and her stomach tighten. She
manufactured a smile and forced her rigid muscles to relax.

“Morning, Free.” He approached her slowly,
rotating his hat in his hands, remorse evident in the strained
expression on his weathered face. “You doing all right today?”

“Good morning, Phil.” She shifted her tool
bag to the other hand. “I’m doing just fine, but I do have a long
day ahead of me.” She regretted the coolness in her tone the
instant she spoke.

One corner of Phil’s mouth hitched up into a
sad smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you
were okay.” He stared at the ground for a long moment then shifted
his gaze back to hers and said, “I’m sorry about the other day. I
didn’t stop to consider how that little trip downtown might make
you feel. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted you and Mr. McFerrin to
see how foolish you were behaving.”

“It doesn’t matter, Phil,” she told him,
trying her best to sound reassuring. “You had to do something and
the situation had gotten completely out of control. It was no one’s
fault but my own that I ended up in a holding cell. I knew better
than to behave the way I did.”

“But still,” he persisted soberly, “it had to
bring back a lot of bad memories for you and I’m real sorry I
caused you to relive the old days.”

Free plunked the duffel bag onto the ground
and massaged the back of her neck. Her muscles still felt stiff
from hunkering over that mantel for so long yesterday. “Phil, you
did your job. Sure it rattled me, but I got over it. Let’s just
forget about it, okay?”

He shook his head and stared at the ground
again. “I can’t. I promised Thomas I’d look after you and I’ve let
you both down.”

Free covered the three steps that separated
them, she pulled the hat from his hands and threw her arms around
his neck. “You didn’t let anyone down, Phil. You’re the best cop I
know and a good friend.”

He hugged her tight and heaved a relieved
breath. “You know how I worry about you, girlie.” He drew back and
looked into her eyes, his own suspiciously bright. “Thomas wanted
you to be happy.”

Her smile was real this time. “I am happy.
You shouldn’t fret about that.”

He pulled a worried face. “Are you really?
You work too hard and I’ve yet to see you on the town with a
beau.”

The memory of Mac’s kiss slid across her
senses; his scent, his taste, the feel of his skin. Free laughed
tightly as heat crept into her cheeks. “I don’t need a beau to be
happy, Phil.”

He lifted one gray eyebrow and eyed her
skeptically. “Oh? I noticed some mighty heated sparks flying
between you and that new neighbor of yours.”

Free felt the color in her cheeks deepen.
“Those were parks of anger.”

Phil waggled his bushy eyebrows knowingly.
“Seemed like a little more than anger if you ask me.”

Free shoved his hat back at him and set her
hands at her waist. “It was more than that. He was going to kill
that tree!”

“Whatever you say.”

Free gave him an indignant look. “Phil,
you’ve been a cop too long. You’re reading too much between the
lines.”

He settled his hat back into place and
grinned. “I didn’t have to read anything, young lady. You and that
McFerrin fella were shouting it to the rooftops.”

Exasperation hissed through her clenched
teeth and she glared at him. “I have to get to work, Phil.”

“All right, all right. I can take a hint.” He
shook his index finger at her. “Just remember, Thomas wanted you to
be happy.”

Free threw her hands up. “I
am
happy!”

Phil crossed his arms over his chest, which
meant only one thing to Free. He was about to say his final words
on the subject. She silently thanked God, then gave the older man
her full attention.

“I didn’t live to be sixty without achieving
a complete understanding of what makes people happy in this life,
girlie. Sharing your life with someone who loves you, having
children of your own, those things make you happy. That’s the way
God intended it and that’s the way it is. You won’t ever make me
believe you’re happy living alone in that big old house.”

She shook her head, though she knew it was a
lost cause. “I’m not alone. I have housemates. Don’t forget Alex
and Emily.”

“They don’t count. You need a man,” he
informed her in his best I’m-the-law-and-you’d-better-listen
voice.

The rumbling sound of a Harley touched Free’s
ears. She smiled when Lance came into view. “Why would I need a
man?” she said sweetly. “I already have one and there he comes
right now.”

Phil shot a disgusted look at the hunk of
black and chrome Lance straddled. “
He
sure as hell don’t
count.”

Lance shut the noisemaker off and flipped the
cigarette he’d finished. Tall and lean, he made a fairly imposing
figure in faded jeans, tattered T-shirt and leather biker boots.
The numerous tattoos lent a definitely intimidating quality to his
image. He rubbed a hand over his cropped blond hair as he sauntered
across the unkempt yard. Twenty-one, Free mused, and full of
himself.

“What up, bro?” Lance slapped Phil on the
back, removed his mirrored sunglasses and winked at Free.

She bit her lip to prevent the smile that
struggled to surface. “You’re late,” she informed him flatly.

Lance hinted at a shrug, “What can I say? I
had a long night.” He grinned sheepishly, then reached for her tool
bag.

“I have to get going,” Phil put in quickly.
He didn’t much like Lance and made no bones about it. He glanced
back at her briefly before he took off. “I almost forgot. We’ve had
some reports of vagrants hanging around these old houses. You watch
out for yourself. Most of ‘em are harmless, but you never
know.”

“We’ll be fine,” Free assured him.

Lance draped an arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t sweat it, Officer Gerard, I’ll take real good care of her,”
he said suggestively. Free jabbed her helper in his ribs. His
answering grunt satisfied her flare of irritation.

“Somehow, Lance, that’s not reassuring at
all,” Phil said bluntly. “One more thing.” He focused back on Free.
“If you run into any of those vagrants, don’t give them any money.
Hell, you’ve given away a fortune in the last three years. Think
about yourself for a change.”

Free saluted stiffly. “Yes, sir!” She giggled
when Lance followed suit.

Phil shook his head and rolled his eyes. “God
bless the simple-minded and foolish,” he said, casting a
long-suffering look in Free’s direction. He opened his car door,
then paused. “I guess I didn’t see your helmet, Lance.”

Lance stiffened. “I…ah…took it off while you
weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, right.” Phil shook his head before
settling behind the wheel of his car.

When he had driven away, Lance turned to
Free. “Where did you want me to start, boss lady?”

Free batted his hand away when he tugged at
the bill of her cap. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

“Sorry, honey,” he offered.

Free drew herself up to her full five foot
six inches and still she was nearly a foot shorter than this lanky
kid. She folded her arms over her chest and arched one eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”

“Just kidding,” he said quickly. “Where did
you want me to start?” he repeated.

Free thought about that for a moment. She and
Lance had already taken what little could be salvaged from the
other two houses. She had completed her inventory of what this last
place had to offer a few days ago, and it really wasn’t that much
either. All they had to do was remove a few items and load up.

That part always made her sad. It reminded
her of the old movies she had watched where some high-ranking
officer would strip the rank off the sleeves of some unfortunate,
wrongly accused soldier. She shuddered inwardly. Oh, well, it had
to be done. Better to be by her than someone who didn’t care.

“Oh, shoot!” Free rubbed the ache beginning
in her forehead. She had completely forgotten to drop off the last
of Julius’s wainscoting. How had she forgotten those final pieces?
Mac’s handsome mug flitted through her mind briefly. It was a
miracle she remembered anything after what happened between them.
But Julius had made sure Free realized her mistake. The man had
worked until the wee hours of the morning to put the wainscoting
up. When he’d run out of material before reaching the final corner,
he had called her to let her know—at two a.m. He wouldn’t be
pleased about having to wait for the remaining pieces this
morning.

“Lance, I forgot to drop the last of the
wainscoting at Mr. Faraday’s house. Could you run it over and I’ll
go ahead and get started here?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Pay’s the same.”

“Great.” Free took the tool bag from him.
“Hurry back. I won’t be able to do much without you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he ambled toward
the truck.

She hurried into the house, dropped her bag
on the floor in the long entry hall and crouched next to it to
retrieve her inventory pad. The phone call from Julius hadn’t
really disturbed her. She’d hardly slept at all last night. In
fact, the call had actually been a relief. Free had spent the
entire night regretting her visit to Mac’s house. How could she
have been so utterly stupid? He had kissed her and she had let him.
Let him? Ha! She had participated—enthusiastically!

Free closed her eyes and banished the
memories to some dark corner of her mind. Mac McFerrin stood for
everything that Free thought was wrong with this world. All he
cared about was his next conquest and making more money. The man
had no soul—no attachment to anything but his work. He’d all but
had a stroke last night over a few blasted papers.

All that aside, there was simply something
about him. Every time they were together, this feeling came over
her and—

A hand touched her shoulder and Free shot to
her feet, fear rushing through her veins. A scream died in her
throat when a leathery palm clamped over her mouth. “Hush, missy,
it’s just me,” a rusty but familiar voice said close to her
ear.

Free slumped with relief. She twisted around
and glared at the old man. “Sarge, you scared the bejesus out of
me.”

“Sorry, Free.” Hs gaze dropped to his worn
boots. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on ya.”

A frown creased her brow as she recalled
Phil’s words. “You shouldn’t be in here, Sarge. They’re going to
tear all these houses down on Monday.” She gave him a knowing look.
“And Phil said there had been a report of…of vagrants.” No matter
what anyone said, she would never be able to call Sarge that.
Around fifty, Sarge had spent half a dozen of those years serving
his country, and those years had shattered his life.

He ran a hand over his scraggly beard, then
straightened his ragged, camo shirt. “I’ve been sleepin’ here a
long time. I kinda like this old place.”

Free’s heart ached for the old soldier.
According to what she’d been told, like many other soldiers who’d
served in Afghanistan, the man hadn’t been the same since. Free
knew he wasn’t all there, so to speak, but he was a good person and
she hated to see him live the way he did. But he refused treatment
from the VA hospitals, and he refused to go to a shelter. Said he’d
been taking care of himself for as long as he could remember and
he’d damned sure do it now.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

He regarded her suspiciously. “I’ve
eaten.”

Free moistened her lips and tried another
tactic. “Sarge, my truck’s been acting up a little. Maybe you could
come by this evening and take a look at the engine?”

He ducked his head between his shoulders and
shuffled his feet. “Sure, I could do that.”

Free pulled out the twenty dollar bill she
had in her overalls pocket and stuffed it in his shirt pocket.
“I’ll just pay you now. That way I won’t forget,” she said
softly.

He nodded without looking up and muttered,
“Okay.”

“Over on Chenille Street there’s a house on a
corner lot that’s in really good shape. It isn’t up for demolition
for about six weeks.”

He looked at her then, his gaze awash in
gratitude. “I know the one.”

“If you’d start a preliminary inventory for
me, I’d really appreciate it.”

He nodded, light returning to his eyes. “Be
glad to, Free.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “Good. And if
Phil or anybody like that questions you, you tell them to call me.
Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll just get started on that right
now,” Sarge said and then shuffled toward the door. He paused
before stepping outside. “Oh, I almost forgot.” His weathered face
broke into an uncharacteristic but bright smile. “Gilliam’s mutt
had pups last month.”

“Again?” Free matched his smile. Olivia, Mr.
Gilliam’s Lab, was Oscar’s mother. That would make the new puppies
Oscar’s siblings. “I’ll have to get by to see them.”

Sarge nodded, then disappeared. Free’s smile
drooped and she blinked back the sudden tears that burned behind
her lids. It was difficult for him to accept her help, but somehow
Free always managed to sound as if he had earned it and that made
the difference. She exhaled wearily. Why did life have to be so
unfair? The image of Mac resurfaced in her mind. Why did some
people have it all while others had nothing?

She exhaled heavily, hoping to lift some of
the weight from her chest. This wasn’t getting her work done. She
decided to start in the kitchen. Putting Sarge out of her mind, she
made her way down the hall and took the first door to the right.
She shoved the door inward and let it swing shut behind her.