Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) (14 page)

She placed her hand in his big, wide-palmed one and
let him tug her into his arms. His kiss tasted of the salty breeze. His
steadiness made her feel way too needy, too elated to be with him. How could
she hang onto her tough-chick routine?

She tunneled her hands in his thick, wavy hair before
pulling away. “I thought I was discredited and out of danger.” Well, if she
didn’t count the attempted break-in. But that was before the news story.

“Don’t count on it. He’s probably watching you just in
case.”

Her mouth flapped like a hauled lobster’s tail. “Um,
there’s a man. I think he’s been following me.”

“What man?” His voice sharpened.

She hiked a shoulder in an attempt at nonchalance. “I
don’t know. Ordinary looking. Middle aged, dark hair. I thought nothing of it.
At first. Small town. You see the same people in the grocery store, at the post
office, in the street.” But now her stomach tightened at the idea someone was
tailing her. The nausea that had emptied her earlier twisted her middle.

“Where’d you see him?” Anger radiated off Jake. He
fisted his hands as if he’d like to pound the guy. The hyper-protective
attitude both irritated and thrilled her.

“First time was after I talked to Mike Spear. The guy
turned away when I came out of the store. Then he was hanging around outside
the inn after my lunch with Gail’s friends.”

He scraped knuckles over his jaw. “You need a keeper.”

He grabbed for her again but she danced out of reach.

“Maybe you should supply me with an Uzi so I’ll be
ready for him in case he sneaks up on me here.” She struck a gun-toting pose,
concealing her trembling.

“Honey, he’d whack you over the head and dump you in
the water before you could turn around.”

Chapter 14

Along with interviews, Jake split his time checking on
Lani and making notes on the reports. Any one was a full-time job, especially
keeping tabs on Lani, who resented his interference, as she called it.

He put her objections down to her anxiety about
depending on anyone and thanked God she was still in one piece. Spending time
with her cheered him—whatever mood she was in. Go figure. If making sure she
was safe was a side benefit, so be it. He tried not to think about what could
happen
if
and/or
when
he screwed up.

Last night on the phone, she’d admitted the banister
needed repairs, ones requiring a carpenter. She hired a guy who couldn’t start
until mid July. A shaky banister was too dangerous to leave alone, Jake told
her. He ought to be able to handle a simple shoring-up job like that. When she
offered to steam lobsters, he made some dumb excuse.

So he arrived bearing tools and steaks for the grill.
He insisted he needed to finish his notes and reports first and set up his
laptop in the kitchen. While he worked, she painted walls and woodwork. They
talked about everything from sports teams, which they agreed on, to politics,
which they argued about. She fussed about his hovering but didn’t shove him out
the door, so he was good, if horny as hell.

“What do you have against lobster?” Lani asked later
as she set dishes on the wicker table outside. The aroma of grilling beef
enveloped the porch. “Around here that’s heresy.”

“Hey, a lot of lobstermen don’t eat their catch.” He
flipped the steaks. When she cocked an eyebrow, he lifted one shoulder. “Something
about the chewy texture turns me off.”

“Good enough. Thanks for coming to fix the banister.”

The steaks were ready, medium rare for both. He
deposited them on the platter and carried them to the table where she’d already
placed a vegetable salad and baked potatoes.

After they finished eating and carried the dishes
inside, he headed up the stairs with his tool kit.

“Jake, one thing.” She smiled sweetly from the foot of
the stairs. “While you’re up there, you can check under the beds and in the
closets for boogey men.”

Busted. “Your safety’s not the only reason I’m here,
Lani.”

Her mouth quirked as if she didn’t believe him.
Huffing a laugh, she disappeared back to the kitchen.

*****

Before Jake left, he made her swear to lock all the
doors and set 911 on speed dial. Then, armed with a list of Gail’s old gal
pals, she hit the phone. Before she could punch in the first number on her
list, her cell rang.

“Hello, sweetie. I was afraid I wouldn’t get you.”

“Mom!” Lani nearly leaped to her feet. “Where are you?”

“Santorini,” Hope Cameron Nash’s voice sounded relaxed
and happy. Lani pictured her tanned, smiling face.

“But it must be after midnight there. You party
animal, you.”

Her mom laughed, musical like Gail’s and so unlike
Lani’s hoot. “Hardly. The hike along the cliffs exhausted me because we kept getting
lost in all the winding lanes. But I can’t sleep. Charlie’s playing Texas Hold’Em
with some other men in the ship’s card room.”

“Sounds like an awesome time.”

Her mom expounded on the Aegean’s gorgeous islands,
the friendly Greeks, the wine, the overabundant food, and trying to hold the
waistline with walks around the deck. “Enough about the cruise. How’re you
doing with the house?”

“I’ve gotten started with the painting.” Lani
described the colors she’d chosen and the new locks—to modernize, a little
white lie. She didn’t mention Jake or any of their—what would she call
them?—challenges. “The dock is a loss. The kitchen’s okay but I have work
scheduled later this month to install a new toilet in the upstairs bathroom and
fix the banister.”

“It’s your house, so do anything else you think will
make the house saleable. Your father said you don’t need to repay him for the
costs.”

Lani had no intention of taking Brody Cameron’s guilt
money. “The repairs aren’t that costly. I’m okay. You have any other ideas?”

She made notes on her mother’s suggestions while she
gathered her thoughts. She’d tried calling her father but could reach only
voice mail. If the tension between them prevented him from wanting to take her
calls, that stung. She would have to work around that. Somehow. But she wanted
to know if what Jake had suggested was true.

Not that his questioning was the first time the issue
had come up. She’d always discounted any excusing of her father’s desertion.
Refused to listen, her standard routine. Playing tough had gotten her nowhere
and hadn’t protected her except in her imagination.

But returning to the farmhouse revived memories—good
ones along with the horrific one. The faded blotches where pictures had hung
reminded her of happy summers. The time her father took two full weeks off. He
taught her to ride and cheered when she trotted the pony with the proper seat.
Every room held memories and images she’d not thought of in years.

She swallowed over the hard lump in her throat. “Mom,
I want to ask you something. About...my father. About the divorce.”

From the silence, she imagined the older woman
stiffening, bracing herself for round seventy-five. “What do you want to know?”

“What you tried to tell me before, about the reasons.
He abandoned you...and me. But is there more?”

“Now?” Emotion clogged her mother’s voice. “You want
to know this
now
?”

“It’s just, well, being here has me thinking.” The
long-held issues were a gray cloud swirling inside her. Like smoke, the
emotions couldn’t be controlled. “Mom?”

“When I get home, we’ll have a long talk, but I’ll
tell you this much. He had trouble dealing with Gail’s death and your burns.
And yes, there’s more. The fire and its aftermath only brought matters to a
head.” She sniffed, as if stifling tears. “Here’s Charlie. He wants to say hi.”

Lani liked her step-father, but she didn’t want to
talk to him. She wanted her mom to divulge the rest.

“Hey, baby girl,” Charlie said. “I held my own with
these card sharks but you could’ve beaten them.”

She managed a laugh and chatted for a few minutes
before disconnecting. Sinking into the sofa cushions, she pressed her fingers
to her burning eyes. Her stomach roiled like the onset of a flu bug.

She’d been wrong all these years. Her father’s leaving
was only partly about Gail’s death and her own treatments. There was more
behind the divorce. But what to do about it now?

After a couple of ibuprofen and a glass of water, she
felt better. Ready to tackle Gail’s old friends. By the time she finished, her
cell-phone battery was drained and so was she.

One woman professed to know nothing about Gail and
sex. Another hung up on her. But two more confirmed what the local women said.
And she added two names to Gail’s figurative bedpost. At ten o’clock, she sank
into a hot tub to try to soak away the crawling, nauseating sensation of
probing her sister’s desperate last months.

Jake phoned twice, once from his Jeep to make sure she’d
locked the doors and again for— She wasn’t sure why, maybe just to say good
night.

She’d thought she was too exhausted to dream but the
fire nightmare sneaked up on her in the wee hours. She sat up screaming, the
image of her sister’s body as real as if the blaze were still burning. If she’d
seen the killer, wouldn’t she have remembered by now? The notion he would snuff
her out regardless had her wrapping herself in a blanket against the resulting
chill.

*****

Afraid the nightmare would return if she fell asleep,
Lani dragged herself out of bed at four. Coffee and a mad spurt of
housecleaning cleared her head. Then she browsed the Internet for news. A
headline leaped out at her like a neon sale ad—
Suspects Cleared in Arson
Fire.

The fire marshal’s office issued a statement clearing
Lani Cameron and Jake Wescott in connection to Frank Tyson’s death. Jake had
told her it was only a matter of time. The authorities couldn’t keep the
fiction going with the press without pursuing them as actual suspects.

She’d experienced no threats the past few days, either
because Jake had hovered or the arsonist actually backed off due to Tuesday’s
persons
of interest
story. She shuddered to think what he’d do now.

At least the press would stop phoning her. So far she’d
cut them off with “No comment.” She closed her eyes briefly on a sigh of relief
she wouldn’t have to jump through that flaming hoop any longer. Wincing at her
analogy, she read on.

No mention of other suspects. Nothing about the
similarity to the old fire. Nothing about the C-4. They were keeping that
information under wraps so the arsonist didn’t know the connection had been
made.

Today she intended to see Ava Warren. Maybe Gail had
spilled something during a waitressing shift. Instead of waiting to see Ava at
the Wheelhouse—where any number of busybodies could eavesdrop—she’d try to
catch her this morning at home, a single-wide in a small development up the
peninsula.

Soon Lani was dressed and armed with her notebook and
cell, both in her big handbag. She locked and bolted the mudroom door before
heading to the back.

The attached barn had been converted into a lawn
equipment storage room and one-car garage. After having a local handyman haul
away rotten lumber and fire hazards like near-empty paint cans, she began
parking the rental VW inside. When she crowed to Jake about her self-protective
move, he pointed out the outer garage door couldn’t be locked.

She wanted to call him arrogant, but he was right.
Still, the house was secure now. She closed the door with a firm push. A
whisper of sound behind her had her turning to look. In the faint light of the
small window, only the car and dust motes in the air were visible. Probably
mice. Or a squirrel.

Jake’s warnings spooked her. And anyway, she had a weapon—a
can of pepper spray. He’d be proud of her.

Take that, squirrels!
Grinning, she stepped
down onto the crushed-stone floor of the small garage and fumbled for the
deadbolt key. Jake was paranoid, but she had to admit he had good reason.

Failing Gail—and you—isn’t the only time I’ve
screwed up.

He’d hinted at something happening in that explosion
several months ago, something that damaged more than his leg. He carried a
heavy load of guilt, heavier than hers for not getting to Gail sooner. Her own
actions bore rethinking, the more she learned. She would wheedle his guilt out
of him. He was quizzing her every other minute, wasn’t he?

When he wasn’t locking lips with her. Could she keep
things light or would she fall for him?
Fall
for him? She was already hanging
on by her fingernails halfway down the precipice. When he left, she’d hit
bottom. So what. She’d survived hurt before.

Wagging her head, she clicked the deadbolt home and
checked her watch. A night bartender like Ava should be up by ten thirty, so
she was good to go. On the way, she’d call Jake.

The crunch of stones and a crackling noise behind her
froze her in place. Chills brushed the back of her neck.
That
was no
squirrel.

Before she could get her fingers around her pepper
spray, pain exploded. It vibrated inside her like a giant tuning fork. She
tried to move, to escape, but her muscles wouldn’t work. She fell, hard, on her
side.

“Gotcha.”

The voice seemed to come from a long distance before
everything faded away.

Chapter 15

“Thanks, gentlemen.” Jake stood and set his mug on the
blue-and-white checked tablecloth.

“Sorry we wasn’t much help,” Sonny said. The oldest of
his granddad’s old friends, the octogenarian had the morose expression of a
basset hound.

“Worth a try. But I enjoyed your stories about Grampa
and my old man. They mean more than I can say. My brother will enjoy them too.”

Otis stood and shook his hand. “If we think of anythin’
else, I’ll call you. Hope you find the answers you need.”

“I appreciate that.” Jake tossed down enough cash to
cover everyone’s bill and a tip.

Outside the Cuppa-’n-Suppa, he checked his watch. Ten
fifteen. An hour’s chat over two cups of java and a piece of lemon-meringue pie
had added zero to what he already knew.

He might as well have finished cleaning up the rest of
the plaster and lath debris at Gram’s house. Next came the new walls. Piecing
wallboard together in a room with more nooks and crannies than an English
muffin would be cutting out and putting together a giant jigsaw puzzle. The
more he considered the problem, hiring someone sounded better and better.

He should check in with Lani. She was way too blasé
about safety.

No ringing. The call went directly to voice mail.

What the hell.

He could blame spotty service along the rural coast.
But the connection worked when he called last night. She wouldn’t turn off her
phone. His gut knotted.

He hustled across the parking lot to the Cherokee. A
U-turn nearly slammed him into a pickup piled with new lobster traps. Waving an
apology to the cursing driver, he whipped out onto the main road. He nudged the
speed-limit envelope until the Come-Again sign outside the village blurred past
him.

He tried Lani’s number again. Same deal. The knot in
his gut bunched tighter. What was going on? Gunning the engine, he sped down
the twisting road. When eons later the farmhouse came into view, he didn’t
exhale a sigh of relief. No sign of Lani or the Beetle.

Brakes squealed and stones sprayed as he slammed to a
stop in the driveway. Shoving the gear shift into first, he flipped off the
engine. Ignoring the Cherokee’s protesting shudder, he flew out the door and up
the porch steps.

He pounded on the door. “Lani! Are you there?”

Nothing. Silence.

He tried the doorknob. Locked. Through a crack between
the door and the frame he could see the deadbolt set. He checked the front
door. Buttoned up as well.

He headed around the house. If she’d left in a friend’s
car, hers should be in the garage. That didn’t explain why her phone was off.
Dammit to hell, she should’ve called him if she went somewhere. She’d agreed to
the precaution. Or maybe he dreamed that. She went her own way. Too much.

As he approached the attached barn, he heard a vehicle
farther down the road. Across the field he caught a glimpse of a tailgate as a
truck disappeared around the turn. Must’ve come from the dirt track beyond the
field. Too much like the truck that tried to deep-six Lani.

The garage had two old wooden doors that swung outward.
He reached for one and stopped. The hum of a motor came from inside the
building.

Lani’s face, alive with intelligence and determination
filled his mind. Adrenaline surged.

Please, God, not Lani.

He focused on the possibility she needed him and wrenched
the heavy door open. A cloud of exhaust fumes engulfed him. Staggered, he
coughed as he waved his arms at the attacking aura. His eyes burned but he
managed to widen the opening.

“Lani, where...are...you?” he choked out.

He yanked up his T-shirt and covered his mouth and
nose. Pushed inside through the noxious fumes. He could barely see for his
streaming eyes. Through the car window he spotted a form slumped in the driver’s
seat.

His throat tightened but he swallowed. He yanked the
door open. Reached in and cut the engine. Grasped her shoulder and shook her. “Lani,
it’s Jake. Wake up, honey.”

She didn’t move but her chest rose and fell with
shallow breaths.

Alive!
His heart started again. He scooped her
up. Pulled her out of the car. She was slim and fit but with his gimpy leg,
could he carry her?

Cold sweat misted his forehead. His breath caught as
if giant pliers had clamped onto his chest. He couldn’t fail her now. She could
die of asphyxiation. No option. The miasma was clearing but enough remained to
make his head ache. He had to escape the fumes too.

He hoisted her up along his right side and slung her
left arm around his neck. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Her sneakers
scraped across the crushed stone as he trudged to the opening and fresh air.

The weakened muscle in his thigh screamed with the
strain. He pushed onward to the field. Safely away from the fumes. Too damn far
across the drive. He stumbled twice but caught himself, gritted his teeth, held
onto her until he reached his goal. He sank to his knees and deposited her on
the grass.

He opened his cell and punched in the emergency
number. He inhaled a deep breath. Another. One more cleansing breath and he was
able to speak when the dispatcher answered.

Then he smoothed back Lani’s disheveled hair and
kissed her forehead. Battery acid burned inside. “Wake up. Talk to me. Please,
honey. You have to be all right. I can’t lose you.”

No response. She lay still as a stone statue.

Not breathing.

His heart slammed up into his throat but he swallowed
down the panic. She needed oxygen. Bad. CPR might not be enough but he had to
try until the paramedics arrived with an oxygen mask. He held her nose with two
fingers and bent his mouth to hers.

He hadn’t been to church in years but he prayed with
every breath he blew into her oxygen-starved lungs.

*****

Jake downed the dregs of the worst coffee a vending
machine had ever produced. The stuff even smelled bad, like road tar. He tossed
the paper cup into the recycling basket. Air conditioning cooled but didn’t
remove the faint medicinal and lemon cleanser smells of the ICU beyond the open
archway.

He’d waited for two hours but no one would tell him
zip. Not even Nora. A small facility, Bayport Hospital sent the more complex
cases to one of the larger hospitals in Portland or Bangor. The fact that
Bayport kept Lani for treatment comforted him. But not much.

The ICU’s hushed quiet, broken only by the hum of
electronic monitors, was unnerving. He leaped to attention every time he heard
a voice or a clatter. At squeaking footsteps on the tile floor, he turned to
see the man he recognized as Lani’s doctor.

“Mr. Wescott, sorry you had to wait so long.”
Kind-eyed and tall, Dr. Laurenz had enough gray at the temples to indicate
experience. His shoes squeaked on the tile floor as he crossed the room.

Jake strode forward to meet the doctor. “Lani? Is
she...?” He couldn’t go on.

Laurenz held up a hand. “She’s out of danger.”

Jake sank onto an armchair. “Thank God.” When he saw
his hands were trembling, he gripped his knees. “What can you tell me?”

Laurenz tucked the clipboard he carried beneath one
arm and took the adjacent chair. He loosened his tie, a blue one arrayed with
Red Sox logos. “When I told Ms. Cameron you were in here wearing out the
carpet, she asked me to give you the scoop.” His warm voice and genial demeanor
didn’t relax Jake. He needed info.

“So she’ll be all right?”

“She’d breathed the carbon monoxide for only a few
minutes. Enough to render her unconscious but not long enough to cause brain
damage. I believe she has you to thank for reaching her in time. The paramedics
said you performed CPR. Also key to the good condition she’s in now. We
administered pure oxygen to cleanse her system. And now a drip with saline and
electrolytes to correct the blood imbalances.”

Jake scooted forward on his chair. “When can I see
her?”

The doctor’s smile conveyed his indulgence at Jake’s
impatience. “As soon as Police Chief Galt is finished interviewing her. We’ve moved
her to a room. Twenty-five.”

Jake hit the door. He tossed a thank-you over his
shoulder.

He cursed the hospital’s circuitous corridors. The
damn building was laid out around a central courtyard so every patient room
looked out on landscaping and seasonal blooms. But that consideration for
patients forced him to slow down and look for the guide arrows.

When he finally arrived at Lani’s closed door, he
heard angry voices from inside the room. Correction—one angry voice.

Lani.

For the first time, he relaxed enough to smile. If she
felt well enough to ream the police chief a new one, he wasn’t worried about
her recovery. Galt had already questioned him, so he knew what set her off. And
the chief must be damned sorry.

A moment later, the door was jerked open and Galt
emerged, looking dazed.

“Sliced you off at the knees with her tongue, did she?”

“I’d wait a few minutes before going in there if I was
you.” Galt tucked his notebook in his uniform back pocket. Settling his cap, he
hustled off.

Braced, Jake knocked and pushed open the door.

Lani sat up, propped with pillows, a fluid drip in her
left arm. Her near brush with death showed in the pallor beneath her tan.

“Jake. You’re here.”

The relief and welcome in her voice doused the fire
his gut. “Hey.”

“That Clouseau of Dragon Harbor suggested I did this
to myself! Like I tried to off myself with the pepper spray first and turned on
the engine when that didn’t work.” She jabbed an accusing finger at the
doorway. “Get a damn clue!”

Her fury at Galt had her sputtering, but anguish
dimmed her eyes. He couldn’t let her wear herself down. Her desperation was
worse than tears. Nothing he could say would help. Only some
thing
he
could do.

He sat on the edge of the bed. Muttering soothing
sounds at her continued rant, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her
against his chest. Beneath the hospital smells, he took in the familiar
fragrance of her hair. He stroked the dark silk and held her, ignoring her
squawks of objection. She made attempts at freeing herself, tough with a needle
in one arm.

“Easy, Lani. You’re safe. I have you.” As he said the
words, their double meaning stabbed him deep. No, they were just words. Words
meant to soothe and calm.

Her right arm went around his waist until she clutched
at him, knotting her fingers in the cotton of his polo and pressing her face to
his neck. At first a couple of sucked-in breaths made him think she was crying
but she just held on.

Lani let Jake’s embrace leach the fear and frustration
from her. Venting unwieldy emotions with sarcasm didn’t always make her feel
better. Maybe because she’d had no one to hold her. He knew the right
prescription when she didn’t.

She took a deep breath. Okay, now she felt more
together. She eased out of his arms and lay back on the pillows. His strong
features were lined with concern. She shouldn’t let herself lean on him so
much. No matter how wanted and safe he made her feel. She wasn’t Gail. She wasn’t
the girl he’d loved then and he didn’t love
her
now.

“So Galt asked if you tried to commit suicide?” he
asked.

She felt her eyebrows shoot upward. “Not you too?”

He held up a hand in defense, his blue eyes alight
with humor. “Not for a nanosecond. Galt asked me the same thing. You’re
reckless. But suicidal? No way.”

“What then?”

“My take is the killer—the arsonist or his hire—set
this up to
look
like suicide.”

“I told Galt I tried to use pepper spray but he said
the cops didn’t find the can.”

“The dirtbag is careful. His attacks could all be
considered accidental or self-inflicted by someone who didn’t know the truth.”

“Careful and clever. Direct attacks but none that
appear
s
direct.” She shuddered.

“But it means out in the open and in public you should
be safe enough.” He hiked up his right leg and made himself comfortable on the
edge of the bed. Sunlight through the window flecked gold in his brown hair. “Pepper
spray. How long you been carrying that?”

“Not long.” No point in telling him she’d bought it
the day before in Bayport. “For all the good my attempt at self-protection did.”

“Doc said nothing about concussion. The guy didn’t
knock you out?”

“He knocked me out, all right, but not over the head.”
She described the attack, from entering the garage until she passed out.

“A stun gun, a powerful one, to put you out like that.
Must’ve hurt like hell. Through your clothes so it didn’t leave a mark. And he
collected the barbs. Did you tell all this to Galt?”

“Yes, but he didn’t comment. Close-mouthed lawman, I
guess.”

“So then he gathered up your bag and put it in the car
with you,” he went on, frowning. “He made one mistake though.”

“There’s a freaking news flash. I’m
alive
.”

He grinned at her vehemence. “If he’d opened the car
windows, the fumes would’ve affected you sooner and I might not have reached
you in time.”

“Why
did
you come?”

“You didn’t answer your phone. Went right to voice
mail.”

She knocked the heel of her hand against her forehead.
“Crap. I turned it off last night when I recharged. When I grabbed it this
morning, I forgot to turn it back on.”

Jake extracted his notebook from his back pocket. “Probably
a good thing. While I waited around this afternoon, I figured out the time
frame. I called before you went to the garage. If I’d reached you—”

“We’d have chatted and I’ve have gone my merry way to
my death.” Tears burned but she willed them away. She hadn’t wept since she
cried an ocean over her sister’s death. Now was no time to let her emotions run
wild.