Long Simmering Spring (21 page)

“Thanks, I’d love to come.” Being invited to the famous Miller barbecue, attended by Boston’s most important families, was considered akin to being on the A-list, even by big-city standards. It might be fun to see some celebrities. Maybe Sebastian and Lexie would be going. She’d have to ask them. But that mattered a lot less than having Pru and Harry extend her a personal invitation.

“Great, then. We’ll be expecting you. Cocktails at six. Dinner at seven. Fireworks after dark. I’ll send a formal invitation in the mail. Oh, and feel free to bring a date.” She took Billy by the hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s go.”

“Good to see you, Dr. Kensington,” Harry said, ushering Pru and Billy to the door.

Julie sat there for a moment, stunned. She thought she’d been cracking open a window by letting Cole in. Little did she realize she’d thrown open the whole door. Now, not only was she thinking about working less, but people were coming out of the woodwork to integrate her into the community. They’d probably been there the whole time and she hadn’t even noticed. Interactions flashed back in her mind—Emma Newbridge asking if she’d like to come to a lecture with her, Lexie Meyers inviting her to a food-and-wine pairing at her cottage, Babs inviting her to dinner again and again, waiting for her to finally put aside her work and say yes. They’d all waited until she was ready. Her chest swelled with happiness.

These friendships were far more important than making sure her business was a few extra thousand dollars in the black. Somehow, she knew she’d be just fine. She managed the practice well, and all it would take was another half-year under her belt to solidly cement her position. Working herself to the bone wouldn’t help her achieve anything faster; it would just burn her out.

She smiled. Maybe Julie Kensington in love wasn’t ready to throw caution to the wind and give up her workaholic ways altogether, but she was more than ready to lighten up.

Cole loved having a plan. And thanks to Julie’s stolen prescription pads, he had a good one. A
really
good one. He stood in the conference room of the Sheriff’s Department, a street map of Barnstable County tacked up to a whiteboard in front of him. Using Star Harbor as the central point, he’d drawn concentric circles around the little town, radiating outward in ten-mile increments. Red points dotted the map, each representing a location where prescriptions could be filled.

On the conference room table was a printout of the names of all of those places. He and his team would go through them, one by one, to figure out if any were connected to the oxy being used. First he’d zero in on the ones with unusually high levels of activity. Then he’d try to get leads on the most probable suspects.

He anticipated that just the setup for the sting could take weeks, even months, but he welcomed the challenge. Sure, he was chomping at the bit to make some arrests, but he wanted to take his time—both to make sure the arrests stuck and to ensure that Julie’s good name wasn’t damaged through this investigation.

Hank Jacobs walked in and gave him a nod. “Good break with Dr. Kensington’s prescription pads.”

“Wish she’d thought to give up the intel earlier, but better late than never. Thanks to those serial numbers, they’ll be much easier to trace.”

“Agreed. But we can’t start on this until we get clearance from the medical board and the DEA.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t start the groundwork. By the time we get the clearance to do our sting, we’ll be almost ready to go.”

“Good thinking.”

“You going out on patrol now?” he asked Hank.

“Yes. And Rhonda Lee is about to go on break.”

“No problem. I need a few hours to get through this stuff. Ask her to send the phones through the main dispatch, same as she always does. They know how to get hold of me if they need me.”

“Will do, boss.”

Cole grunted and turned back to his work, hearing the front door to the station house open and shut as Hank left. He’d need to talk to Val later, to see if the Feds had dug up anything. Maybe he’d check with Chief Michaelson, too.

After hours of staring at the whiteboard, Cole rubbed his fingers over his eyes and sighed. When he went to grab some coffee, the station house was quiet. Even Rhonda Lee had to be on break again. It was at times like these, when he was alone with only his thoughts, that the tough stuff at the edges of his consciousness started to creep to the forefront of his mind.

Where had that damn nightmare come from, anyway? I thought I was done with them. Thought I’d finally put that chapter of my life behind me.

He’d pushed Julie to confront her own issues last night, but hypocrite that he was, he’d barely confronted his own. He’d been so focused on being a soldier and a cop for so long that he’d forgotten what it was like to be a man. And he was desperately afraid that if he looked underneath that battered armor he’d put up, he wouldn’t like what he saw. And neither would Julie.

She wanted to see the best in everyone, even him. But how would she react when he showed her how messed up he was? Sure, she’d shown she could handle the nightmares, but they were the symptoms, not the cause. It was everything he’d worked to suppress—the guilt, the anger, the pain. He couldn’t let it go. Just buried it deep and kept moving toward that redemption that always seemed out of reach. And now that he had Julie to worry about, he felt his control slipping away. Thinking about her in danger pushed him close to the edge.

He knew he needed to be man enough to go back to therapy, but a long, hard look at himself was exactly what he didn’t want right now. Fighting the demons was difficult enough without introspection—just one of the reasons he hadn’t gone back to that psychologist. He’d gotten his PTSD relatively under control, and honestly, he was afraid of what he’d uncover if he peeled back more layers.

Being with Julie had been beyond his wildest imagination. She’d given 100 percent of herself—no holding back. But he’d given something, too. He’d showed her that dark part of himself and she hadn’t run, though by rights she should have. He wasn’t ready to face his demons head-on. Not yet. But with her at his side, for the first time, he thought he might have a shot at it. For her, he wanted to fight. He wanted to show her that he could be the man she thought he was.

Setting his jaw, he took his coffee and walked back to the conference room. He still had a lot to plot out, and he couldn’t waste more time thinking about his failures. He wanted to focus his efforts where he had the control: his work.

CHAPTER 17

“Where is she? You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” an angry voice slurred from behind.

Julie froze where she stood on the sidewalk, a jolt of adrenaline lancing through her body. It was Don Rathbone, obviously strung out on something despite the early-evening hour. She pushed aside all the questions buzzing in her head—where he’d been hiding at the top of that list—and tried to focus on an escape plan.

She was about a block from Martins’s Market and another block from her car, where she’d left her cell phone.
Stupid!
The street was deserted, typical for an off-season weekday. The light was fading fast, and though the gas lamps were lit, the street was pretty dark. The bag full of groceries in her arms hampered any escape. She could use it as a weapon if she had to. Kicking herself for not immediately taking Cole up on his offer to teach her self-defense, she turned to face Don, hugging the bag protectively to her chest.

Still no one around. She needed to get back to where the most people could help her—to Martins’s Market. But Don stood between her and sanctuary.

“Someone told me she went to your office the night she left.” He stepped closer.

“Stay back, Don,” she warned. “There’s a restraining order that says you have to stay at least fifty yards away from me.”

“Like I give a crap about a restraining order.” Then, suddenly, his anger turned to a whine. “Tell me where she is. I just wanna talk to her. Please?” he wheedled.

“I don’t know where she is,” Julie said firmly, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. “Now let me pass.” Turning her back on him would be a mistake, so she nimbly stepped to the right, hopped off the curb, and started to walk briskly back toward Martins’s Market. She thought she’d given herself enough room to cleanly get by, but Don’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

“Ow! Let go!” Julie cried, her package falling to the ground as she tried to simultaneously twist away and smash her shoe down on his foot. Don deflected her attack and squeezed her arm harder. She opened her mouth, but he’d anticipated what she was about to do.

“Scream and I’ll break your arm.” Julie had no doubt he could make good on his threat, so she stopped moving and shut her mouth. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me where that lying bitch went.” His eyes were slits of anger and a bubble of spit formed at the corner of his mouth.
Buy some time
.

“I don’t know, Don. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” Julie was calm now. What was he going to do to her on a main street in plain sight? Surely someone would come along and she’d be able to call for help.

“Oh, come on, Doc. You can tell me,” he pleaded. The grip on her arm was like a vise now, cutting off the circulation, clenched on the exact same spot where he’d grabbed her two weeks ago. At this point, screaming wouldn’t help and breaking free wasn’t an option. Just as she was debating whether scratching his face or kneeing him in the groin was worth the price of a broken arm, a clear, calm voice rang out.

“Let her go, Don,” Hank Jacobs said.

Finally, after a too-long pause, Don let go of her arm. Quickly, she stepped away from him, feeling the circulation rush back through in an unpleasant pins-and-needles wave. As fast as she could, she raced to Hank’s side.

Don smoothed back his hair, trying to act nonchalant. “We were just having a friendly chat,” he slurred.

“Like hell we were! You grabbed me and threatened to break my arm!” Julie said, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating way too fast.

Don put his hands up in supplication, his face a picture of innocence. “Hey, just being friendly.” He started to back away.

“Don’t do it, Don,” Hank said before Don could make a run for it. “I have a warrant for your arrest. Let me take you in, nice and easy.”

Don snorted. “No way.” He kept backing up. Eyes trained on Don, Hank took Julie by the elbow and pulled her back so that she was slightly behind him, a signal for her to stay put. Slowly, she stepped backward, feeling the familiar bulge of the cobblestones underfoot.

Don turned and ran, but before he got even ten yards, Hank launched himself forward and tackled him to the ground. He pulled out his cuffs and began to read Don his Miranda rights. Then, one hand holding the big man to the ground, he calmly pulled out his radio and called for backup.

The whole procedure had taken less than thirty seconds.

It took longer than that for Julie to wrap her head around what had just happened.

By the time the other deputies showed up, Julie had collected herself. Mostly. Hank handed Don off to the others, who put him in the back of one of the cruisers to take to the station. She was shaking a little bit now, but she pushed back at the nervousness and took deep breaths.

“You okay?” Hank asked, kneeling down to pick up a few oranges that had spilled out of her grocery bag.

“Yes. Thanks to you.”

“Hurt anywhere?” he asked, picking up the bag.

She rubbed her arm. “A little, on my arm where he grabbed me. I’ll probably have bruising, but no major damage. I don’t need to go to a hospital, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I just need to know for my report,” Hank said. “Do me a favor. Take a picture of the bruise so I can pop it in the file.” He shook his head. “That’s the second time he’s attacked you. I hope to God it’s the last.”

“Me too.”

“Is your car here?”

“Over there,” she said, motioning with her head.

“Come on. I’ll walk you.” She nodded in agreement and they started down the street. She was feeling a little better now, not as dizzy. “Cole’s not going to like it that he touched you.”

That was the understatement of the year. Cole would
hate
it. A gnawing feeling began low in her stomach. For a second there, she’d forgotten that she’d have to face Cole. And this was after he’d warned her about this exact thing happening. He’d been bossy the first time Don had gone after her. Now, he’d likely be downright authoritarian. Not wanting to think about what he might say, she opened her car door.

“Thank you again, Hank.”

He placed the grocery bag in back on the passenger-side floor. “Get in and go straight home, you hear?”

The same words coming out of Cole’s mouth would have a completely different tone. The thought of that made the gnawing feeling worse. But Hank was only trying to help, so Julie nodded. “I’d planned to do just that.”

She got into her car, shut the door, and slowly drove home.

Back at her house, Julie put the groceries on the kitchen counter and immediately went upstairs to change out of her work clothes. Don’s touch had made her feel soiled, and she just wanted to get clean. Tossing her skirt and blouse in a pile to be dry-cleaned, she threw on something comfortable—a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan. She wasn’t going anywhere, so she left off her shoes. Popping two ibuprofen pills to alleviate the ache in her arm, she slowly began to feel more like herself again.

Her chignon had come loose, so she rearranged it and returned to the kitchen to unpack her groceries. As she was putting a carton of milk in the refrigerator, Cole’s telltale knock sounded at the door. She’d learned to recognize the firm rap—always thrice in the same brisk pattern. Shutting the refrigerator door, she walked to the foyer to let him in.

As soon as she opened the door, Cole eyed her up and down, obviously checking to make sure she was all right. It was too much to hope that he hadn’t yet heard about the incident with Don. Of course he knew; he was the sheriff. So rather than saying anything, she took the opportunity to size him up, too. He was wearing a pair of broken-in jeans and a plain black T-shirt stretched tight over his chest. True to form, one stubborn lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, the black a stunning contrast to his piercing blue eyes. The man looked good, except for the scowl on his face that was obviously meant for her.