Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (18 page)

“It's because I did something daring.”

Jane looked intrigued. “Pressing your hands into the concrete.”

“Yes. I...wasn't a daring child.” At home, she had tried so very hard to go completely unnoticed. She must have been all but a wraith. Suddenly impatient with herself, she said, “Do you have any more questions?”

“No.” The lieutenant departed with a reminder to call if she remembered anything else.

She was grateful to have Jane Vahalik coming to ask her questions and not one of the detectives who worked under her, all men from what Cait understood. She knew perfectly well why she rated a lieutenant and not a mere detective. They must all be eager to please Colin.

Was there any chance she and Jane could be friends when this was all over? Cait would really like to know how a woman not that much older than she was had come to be so confident that she could thrive in a workplace environment brimming with testosterone. Cait couldn't relate it to her own profession, where no one carried a gun.

Of course, it was entirely possible she wouldn't still be in Angel Butte to make friends. She couldn't live at a constant level of fear. Leaving might be best. No matter what, she couldn't imagine how she could balance the job with a relationship with Noah. Or how she could continue to work with him once they no longer
had
a relationship.

She hadn't used her head where he was concerned.
After Noah,
she thought,
I really
will
swear off men.

Cait already knew he was going to hurt her more than Blake ever had.

* * *

E
VEN
KNOWING
IT
wasn't helping his cause, Noah scowled at Cait from where he stood in her office doorway. “I'd have sat in with you if you'd called me.”

Cait gazed coolly at him. “Lieutenant Vahalik and I did fine. I didn't need moral support. It's not as if she suspects me of some dire crime.”

He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped in and shut the door even though he knew there already had to be gossip circulating about them. “What did she ask you?”

She rolled a pen between her fingers in one of the few nervous gestures he'd seen her make. “She hoped I'd remember the other man.”

From that day. As Noah had stood in that backyard earlier, his gaze kept going to the six-foot board fence not twenty feet from the edge of what had been the patio. What if they'd seen her? No, he knew—she'd have died. They could so easily have added her to the open grave.
God.
He was terrified thinking about it, even though the risk to that curious little girl had come and gone so long ago.

“Do you?” Remembered fear roughened his voice.

She shook her head. “Not very well. As I told the lieutenant, the only adult I've recognized since I got here is Jerry. I saw this guy once. I didn't pay that much attention to him.”

“You know how important it is.”

Suddenly she looked mad. “Is this your idea of a pep talk?”

“Damn it, Cait, your life could depend on recognizing this man if you come face-to-face! How long did you watch them? An hour? More? How can you not remember him?”

“How well do
you
remember things from when you were that young?”

She didn't know that felt like a brutal kick to his kidney.

But, Dad! You said we could go fishing! You
promised.

There isn't a single good thing he could have inherited from his father.

Gut roiling, he took a step toward her, until only the desk was a barricade between them. “The ones that count?” His voice was guttural. “A hell of a lot better than you seem to.”

Her chair squeaked as she recoiled from him. Noah was stunned to realize he'd bared his teeth. The worst part was seeing the expression on her face, one he knew too well.

“Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she shot back.

“Like you're afraid of me.”

“My problems aren't yours. You have no right to get mad at me.”

Oh, hell.
Fighting for control, he turned his back on her for a moment. At last he felt able to face her again. “I'm not mad. I'm afraid for you.”

Eyes still dominating her face, she shook her head. “You're angry.”

“Cait.” He wanted the grit to leave his voice but couldn't seem to make it. “You...reminded me of things I'd rather not remember. That's all. I was angry at other people, not you. Maybe even at myself because there's so little I can do to keep you safe. Being ineffectual doesn't sit well with me.”

For a long, quivering moment, she kept staring. “I don't believe you,” she said. Only the faintest tremor betrayed her tension. “It was me.
You
would have remembered.
You
could probably pick the guy out of a lineup. Well, I'm sorry I can't, but that's the way it is.”

Her phone vibrated on the desk, and her gaze dropped to it. “That'll be Colin. He's letting me know he's on his way to pick me up. You'll have to excuse me, Noah.”

He couldn't believe how badly he'd screwed up. He'd
known
she was abused as a child. What did he think, she was going to laugh it off when he was an asshole to her?

“Call him.” He let her hear his urgency. “Have dinner with me.”

She gave a small laugh that broke. “That's just what I want to do.”

“Please.”

As if she hadn't even heard, Cait yanked her giant bag from beneath the desk and rose. “I need to go.” She dropped the phone into it.

He wanted to block the doorway, make her listen. He might have done that if he'd known what to say. What he felt. What he really wanted.

But the truth was, he had no idea. So after a moment, he opened her door and stepped into the outer office, where a couple of other women were collecting handbags and getting ready to leave, too.

“Tomorrow, Cait,” he said gruffly and left before she could, the emotions he didn't want to identify so goddamn tangled inside him, they constricted his lungs and maybe even the basic functioning of his heart.

He stayed late, because what did he have to go home to? Instead of Chandler's—
Do you ever eat anywhere else?
—he continued down the block to the Kingfisher Café, where Nell and Cait had dined the day they ran into Jerry Hegland. He didn't remember ever being in there.

He did recognize the woman who stepped out of the kitchen and glanced around shortly after he'd ordered, though. Her hair wasn't the same color it had been when they'd met—had to be a meeting of the Association of Downtown Merchants, he decided. Then the short spiky hair had been hot pink; now it was turquoise. She'd been especially outspoken.

She saw him, raised her eyebrows and wound her way between tables until she reached his. “Mayor.”

He summoned a smile. “I'm afraid I don't remember your name.”

“Hailey Allen.”

“That's right. Pleasure to meet you again.”

“What brings you here?”

“Curiosity. Your café seems to be a favorite lunch spot for a lot of city hall workers.”

Satisfaction showed on her face. “That's because I make fabulous food.”

If the good smells in here were any indication, she did. He grinned. “Have you eaten at Chandler's?”

“I have. I've tried pretty much every restaurant in town, barring the Red Robin and Olive Gardens.”

“And?”

“Your food is good, too.” She sounded a little grudging. “You could get more creative, but I liked what I had.”

“You're young to have your own place.”

“You're young to have three.
And
be mayor.”

“I like to be in charge.”

She flashed a saucy grin. “Ditto.”

His soup arrived. The waitress couldn't hide her curiosity. He began to wonder why Hailey still stood there.

“Care to join me?” he asked.

“Lord, no! I don't have time. Just checking you out.”

“Why?” he asked, amused. He wasn't getting any sexual vibe from her, and although he liked her, she didn't do anything for him sexually, either.

“Nell McAllister is one of my best friends. We went to high school together.”

“And she's talked about me.”

Hailey shrugged. “Sure. I'm getting to know Cait, too.”

His amusement passed. Gaze and voice both became unapproachable. He was good at that. “Cait who works for me.”

“That would be her.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, shoot. I've got to go back to work.” One eyebrow rose, looking natural in her quirky, not-quite-symmetrical face. “Good talking, Mayor.”

“Noah.”

She just smiled and whisked herself back to the kitchen. Intrigued, he watched her go, wondering how she stayed plump given her air of unending vitality.

Once he started eating, he had his answer. She was too good a cook. He indulged himself in plotting to lure her to Chandler's—but this was a weeknight, and the tables in
her
restaurant were staying full with a cluster of people waiting to be seated. Something told him she couldn't be lured, not by anything he had to offer, anyway.

He studied faces as he ate, his gaze pausing on men in the right age range. Who had Jerry Hegland been with the day he encountered Cait? Unlikely it had been the man who was trying to kill her. Still, Jerry must have called him or gone to see him right away and said,
You'll never believe this.

But why had
he
had to die?

Noah turned that over in his mind as he concluded his meal with a Kahlúa-swirl cheesecake that almost made him moan out loud.

Hell.
Maybe he could hire Ms. Allen to create a few new dessert items for Chandler's.

He walked back to the garage to reclaim his Suburban and drove home. The house had never felt emptier when he let himself in. His usual pleasure in what he'd accomplished seemed to be missing. He'd wanted Cait there tonight.

He wanted her there every night.

He'd known better than to start anything with her. This was why, damn it. He'd sworn he would never let himself feel like this.

That was almost funny. Let himself? He'd never believed he
could
feel like this.

Noah hadn't moved; still stood at the foot of the stairs, paralyzed because he'd been stupid enough to fall in love for the first time in his life. What other explanation was there for this powerful need to protect her, this blinding anger at anyone who had ever hurt her or even thought about hurting her? This hunger for her body, her laugh, her take on whatever he was thinking about at any given time? What else could it be?

He wished he still had a wall to rip out. It was too late in the evening to work on his bedroom. He had to do some patching, floor, walls and ceiling, before he could start constructing new walls. He needed something mindless and more physical than that.

He could start on that front bedroom, the one Cait had called the nursery. Steam the old wallpaper off or sand the floor. Strip woodwork. His intention had been to finish the small bedrooms all the same way, maybe vary paint color. Now—goddamn it, now he kept seeing those yellow ducklings.

If he was going to turn the house over, it wouldn't hurt to finish a couple of the bedrooms to appeal to kids.

He'd intended to stay in this house, just as he intended to stay in Angel Butte. A man who knew what he wanted, he'd dug in there. He didn't like being confused.

He had to decide what to do about these feelings.

Walking away? Not an option given the danger that stalked Cait.

Yeah?
mocked a voice in his head.
Why not? Her brother's a cop. He's more qualified than you are to protect her. She doesn't need you.

He ignored the voice.

He also ignored the one pointing out that, if he got in a whole lot deeper, he might as well let her start dragging home wallpaper books.

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

Jesus,
he thought incredulously,
it's already too late.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

C
AIT
POURED
DETERGENT
into the dishwasher and then straightened. She'd hold off starting it since she could hear Nell still in the shower. Colin was grabbing the dish towel and reaching for a saucepan in the drainer when Cait shut the dishwasher.

“I'm going to call Mom tonight,” she said. “She still doesn't know I've moved back here.”

Her brother hung up the dish towel, his eyes on her. He was good at giving nothing away. “All right,” he said slowly. “Probably past time. Can you ask her some questions about Hegland while you're at it? I doubt she had any idea what he was into, but you never know.”

“I wonder.” And had all too many times as she lay awake thinking about why someone wanted to kill her. “Remember, in one of the notes Mom had kept, he said something about how she was wrong, whatever she thought, and why wouldn't she call him. What if she heard or saw something that made her suspect he was into bad stuff? Maybe she
was
thinking about marrying him until then.”

“Which would explain why she ran instead of just asking Dad for a divorce and staying in town.” He frowned. “I always assumed it was because she was scared of him.”

“Me, too.”

“Will she tell you if you ask?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “After our huge blowup, we've never talked about Jerry again.”

“Try,” he said, and, after a moment, she nodded.

Instead of retreating to her bedroom, she took her phone to the living room. If Colin overheard from the kitchen, that was fine with her.

She kicked off her shoes, curled up on one end of the sofa and punched in her mom's number.

Her mother answered on the third ring. “Cait? It's been months! Why haven't you returned any of my calls?”

“It's been maybe two months,” she retorted, recalling all too well their last conversation. She'd been hiding so much. Mom did know she'd broken up with Blake, but not why, of course. She made light of the fact that she was staying with a friend rather than renting a place of her own. No mention of her stalker, or that she was hunting desperately for a job so she could get out of Seattle. She hadn't exactly lied, but she wasn't exactly honest about her life, either. “And, well, I've kind of been in transition,” she continued.

“In transition?”

Cait had no trouble picturing the expression on her mother's face.

“I've taken a job in Angel Butte.”

The silence was so complete, she wasn't sure her mother was still breathing.

“There was a perfect opening for me. And...I wanted to get to know Colin again. I'm actually staying with him and his wife right now.”

“What about your PhD?” Mom asked after a minute. “And...what kind of job?”

She did have good reasons for putting off working on her dissertation, but the mention still made her wince. Cait was embarrassed at how little thought she'd given to it.

“I'm the director of community development. The area is booming economically, and I'll have the chance to really help shape the city to improve livability.” She was starting to sound like a press release. “I like the job,” she finished more weakly.

“I don't understand.” Mom's voice wavered, as if she'd aged twenty years in the past minute. “What would make you go back? You
know
what we escaped.”

“And
you
know Dad has been dead a long time.” It came out more sharply than she'd intended.

“Your brother—”

“Turned into a good, strong man.” She turned her head to see that Colin, while still in the kitchen, was watching her. “Did you know he's planning to run for sheriff of Butte County?”

“I hate the idea of him carrying a gun!” Mom was verging on hysteria.

“He's just the kind of man who should.” Of course he would never have gone after Jerry Hegland. Not Colin, a man whose sense of honor was as much a part of him as was his protective nature—and his willingness to do anything for her, the sister who had rebuffed him over and over. In that moment, Cait would have given anything to take back the words she'd spoken so unthinkingly to him.

“You don't know him, Mom.”

“I can only pray you're right,” she said stiffly.

Mom wasn't going to accept that she could have been wrong about Colin. Maybe she
couldn't,
not and live with herself.

“I am,” Cait said. “Listen, I called mostly to let you know where I am, but there's something else.” She hesitated. “When I first got here, I ran into Jerry Hegland.”

“Jerry?” her mother whispered.

“He hadn't changed that much. It was more of a surprise that he knew me.”

“I don't understand. How could he possibly have recognized you?” She sounded stunned.

“Well, it's not like we ran into each other in Seattle where there wouldn't have been any context. Colin's in the news all the time. It would be logical that I'd be in town once in a while.” She took a deep breath. “Mom, Jerry is dead. That's what I wanted to tell you. He was murdered a couple of weeks ago.”

“Dear God.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I haven't seen the man in eighteen years.” Her mother's voice had risen. “Why you think you even have to
tell
me—”

“I remembered what he wrote in that note, Mom. About how you were wrong in what you were thinking about him. And, well, I can't help wondering if you found out he was involved in something illegal. This wasn't a murder in the middle of a burglary or anything like that. It was more of an execution. Right now, the police have no idea what the motive could have been.”

“I don't know anything,” her mother said. “And I don't appreciate you suggesting that I might. You completely misunderstood what he meant.”

“What
did
he mean?” Cait asked softly.

“What does it matter to you anyway? This is ancient history and none of your business. If all you're going to do is grill me, I'll say good-night right now.”

“Mom, why would you keep his secrets?”

“How dare you?” her mother cried and hung up.

After a moment, Cait did the same, carefully placing her phone on the end table. She felt... Oh, she hardly knew. Shaken.

Colin moved into sight, sitting in the recliner facing her. His eyes were kind. “Didn't go so well?”

Cait drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “It was weird.” She bit her lip. “Did it bother you? Listening to me talk to her?”

“I didn't like hearing you sound upset. Otherwise...” He shook his head. “I don't relate much to the idea of her being my mother anymore. If I tried, I could stir up a little anger, and that's about all.” He smiled. “Thank you for defending me.”

“I meant it. I feel dumb that it's taken me this many years to realize how much I let her influence my memories of you. I don't know if she was really scared of you or not. I guess she must have been. What I do know is that she can't let herself conceive that she might have been wrong to leave you behind. So she has to keep bolstering her belief that you were just like Dad.”

He nodded. “Human nature.”

“Yes.” She was silent for a moment, and then met his eyes. “You heard me ask her about Jerry.”

He waited.

“She lied. I think she did learn something about him, but I doubt she'll ever admit it.”

Her brother was silent for a while, his brows knit as he thought. He finally shrugged. “What if she thought she'd found a great guy? Planned to leave Dad for him? And then it turns out he's a crook. She's O and two. She doesn't want you to know that.”

“Or maybe
she
doesn't want to know that.”

His gaze never left her. “Maybe she doesn't.”

Understanding her mother better than she wanted to, Cait felt sick. Shame had kept her silent, too. Was still keeping her silent.

Oh, God,
she thought.
I don't want to be like her.

She bent, so her forehead bumped her knees and she didn't have to see her brother's face.

“Blake was abusive,” she said, her throat thick with tears. “And I let it happen.”

The next thing she knew, the sofa cushion beside her depressed and Colin took her in his arms. She swiveled and let him hold her while she cried.

* * *

H
AVING
HEARD
NOTHING
by midafternoon the next day, Noah called his police chief first, only to be told that Chief Raynor was in a meeting and would have to return his call. Frustrated and irritated even though he knew he was being unreasonable, Noah dialed McAllister's number.

“Mayor,” Colin said, sounding resigned.

“What's the holdup?” Noah demanded. “Hasn't the M.E. gotten to the skeleton?”

“Have you talked to Raynor?”

“Why bother? He doesn't know anything you haven't told him.”

Cait's brother chuckled. “I doubt he sees it that way.”

Noah didn't have the patience to talk about Alec Raynor right now. “Well?”

“Sanchez isn't a bone man. He's asked for a forensic anthropologist from the state. I understand the guy's coming in tomorrow.”

“So we know nothing.”

“Identifying this guy is unlikely to keep Cait any safer.”

Intellectually, Noah knew that. His gut said different. “It's important.”

“I agree. And we're trying. Knowing when he died narrows down the missing-person reports we have to review. I'm told he has unusual dental work. That'll help, when we have a name to match him to.”

“What do you mean, unusual?”

“Sanchez is thinking now this man was in his thirties to forty. Not as old as we first thought. Confirmation of that is one of the reasons he's bringing in an expert. His teeth look more like an older man's, though. He lost quite a few of them at some point. He had six bridges, all in pieces now, of course. The remaining teeth look as though they were healthy—I'm told there are only a couple of small fillings—so the M.E. is thinking the teeth were knocked out.”

A buzzing in his ears was the first symptom. The next moment, Noah felt as if he were floating up by the ceiling, looking down at the man sitting behind the desk in his office, phone to his ear, a stranger he didn't know.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to make cartilage creak. The pain pulled him back into his body.

“My father disappeared when I was a teenager. Probably around sixteen,” he said in a guttural voice. His throat had thickened to the point where it was hard to speak at all. “Mom got checks from him so erratically, we're not sure when. Angel Butte was his last known address.”

There was a moment of silence as Colin did the math. “Nineteen years ago.”

“He was in a motorcycle accident when he was in his twenties. The handlebar rammed into his mouth.”

“But what could he possibly have had to do with Jerry Hegland?”

“My father started out as a pharmaceutical rep. He got addicted to painkillers and eventually involved in selling illegal drugs.” Noah's mother had talked bitterly about her first husband's downfall enough times, but he'd never been sure he believed her. The dad he remembered wasn't like that. But now he made himself keep talking. “He served a year in jail once.”

“In Oregon?”

Strange, how numb he felt. “Washington. My mother worked in Portland, but we lived across the river in Vancouver.”

“Do you remember what dentist he might have seen?”

“When I was a kid, we went to a Dr. Warren. Can't remember the name of the clinic, but it was in Vancouver. I'm assuming my father saw him, too.”

Colin was quiet for a moment. A moment later he confirmed Noah's guess that he was online. “Dr. Paul Warren?”

“That sounds right.”

“If it turns out this is him...I don't know how we can keep it quiet.”

“You don't have to keep it quiet. Last time I saw my father I was eight years old. I am not responsible for him or his choices.”

“No. Jesus, Noah.” Something indefinable had changed in Colin's voice. “I'm sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “Can't pick our parents.”

“No. I wouldn't pick either of mine.”

Noah wasn't going to cut himself open and bleed here and now even though he felt a sense of kinship unfamiliar to him. He had a meeting with the facilities manager scheduled to start in ten minutes. Nothing had really changed. “You'll let me know?” he asked.

“The minute we find out.”

He made it through the meeting, and the dozen routine phone calls he had to make thereafter.

The Novocaine wore off at some point, leaving him with a sensation that felt more like pressure than pain. It made it hard to sit. Muscles began to jerk in rebellion. He needed to run, to hammer a punching bag, to do
something.
Finally he shot to his feet, told Ruth he had to talk to someone and took the stairs rather than the elevator down one floor. Nobody in Development and Planning appeared surprised to see him. City Councilman George Miller was leaning against the counter looking mad, his face and balding pate both red. He straightened, but Noah only shook his head.

“Not now, George.”

He rapped lightly on Cait's door, hoping like hell she was there.

“Come in,” she called.

He did, and, upon seeing that she was alone, he shut the door behind him, leaning back against it.

Her face was drawn and tired, but she was beautiful anyway. Today's outfit made him think of fresh peaches, blushing with color. She looked at him warily.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.

Those soft gray eyes studied him for an uncomfortable length of time. “Is something wrong?”