Someone To Watch Over Me (16 page)

“No, stay.” The woman pleaded as she reached
for his arm. “Let me talk to him.”

The man snorted and gestured to the boy.
“Fine, you handle it.”

His mother dropped her hand from his arm and
took a few hesitant steps toward her son. The skin on her cheek was
pink and a tear traced down her cheek. She took a ragged deep
breath before speaking. “Frank, everything is fine. Go to bed. I'll
talk with you in the morning.”

The boy stared at her and then at the man
who sniped. “Doesn’t mind you very well, does he?”

To this day Frankie can't recall the exact
details of what happened next. But a tidal wave of anger and
frustration breached the walls of his contained frightened
existence. He wasn’t scared anymore.

He charged with a blood-curdling scream that
caused the man to stagger back a few steps from the force of his
cry. His mother shrieked as she tried to grab him as he flew past
her but Frank twisted, shoved, and jerked from her grasp.

“Jesus,” the man said. He stepped back where
his calves caught on the glass coffee table. At eleven, the boy was
barely ninety-five pounds and was not a match for the man in a
straight up battle, but booze and amazement tipped the scales
against the drunk. The boy stiffened his arms and slammed into the
man's paunchy gut. The man's eyes widened in surprise and his arm
flailed in the air as he tumbled down onto the coffee table behind
him. The sound of shattering glass traveled through the air, then a
scream from the man.

“Oh God,” the man whined as he reached down
and grasped his thigh and writhed in pain. Frank looked down. The
red spots of blood grew larger, soaking his jeans.

“What have you done?” his mother cried.

“Help me,” the man pleaded.

His mother wheeled around and grabbed her
son’s arm. “Look at what you've done.”

He gazed at his mother's face. The mascara
had streaked from the tears and the remains of the bright lipstick
she'd worn earlier that evening made her look like a battered
tragic version of a clown.

She ran to the kitchen and returned with
towels and began to apply pressure to the man's leg. She glared at
her son. “Get out of here she ordered.

Frankie stepped back. He'd won and what did
he get for defending her? She got angry with him. Not the drunkard
she brought home and who roughed her up, but her own son.

The man latched eyes with him and growled.
“When I get back from the hospital you better not be here.”

Frank flipped him the finger and spun around
and dashed back to his room. After they left for the emergency
room, he called his grandmother. He moved out before they returned
and he'd never gone back. His mother made her bed. Let her sleep in
it, with whoever would have her.

“Are you still hungry? Do you want me to make
you some eggs or toast?” The young man snapped out of his thoughts
and glanced at his grandmother. Her gray hair was pulled into a bun
and she wore a simple house dress which had seen better days. He
briefly wondered how long she had owned it.

“No, I'm fine. But I need a favor.”

“What?” she asked quietly.

“Can I borrow your car?” He paused, then
continued. “Mine’s running hot. I think I need to have the radiator
flushed and I'm afraid if I drive my car it will overheat on the
way to work.”

Concern graced her brown eyes, and he could
almost read her thoughts regarding the prospect of another car
bill. “Sure. Are you sure it's just the radiator? I can help with
the bill if you need.”

“No, I'm sure a radiator flush will solve the
problem. Thanks.”

His chest tightened in response to her
worried expression. He stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek.
The old woman wrapped her arms around him and gently squeezed a hug
back in return. He stiffened and pulled back. “I've got to get
ready for work.”

He turned and forced himself not to bolt from
her. He had places to go and one very special person to catch up
with.

***

Morgan stared at the computer screen and
didn’t believe what she saw. Every auction item had a bid. She
whipped out a calculator and added up the total revenue. She sat
back, rolled the leather chair away from the desk and did a sitting
happy dance. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Wait till her father heard about this. He’d
been so concerned an online auction wouldn’t work, but she’d been
right. She picked up the phone and dialed her parent's home
number.

“Hello?”

“Mom, can I speak to Dad?”

Her mother’s voice turned serious. “What's
wrong?”

“Nothing, for the first time in a couple of
days absolutely nothing,” Morgan replied. “I'm on the auction site
and every item has a bid. Can you believe it?”

“Oh honey, that's great,” her mother replied.
“Your father should be here anytime now. I'll tell him.”

“Thanks, Mom, don't say anything about this.
Let me surprise him.”

“Fine, how are
you
doing?”

Her mother’s question caused Morgan’s smile
to fade, and she took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m okay. Right
now, I'm locked away in the back of the store. Shawn had to make a
trip to his office and should be back shortly.”

“You're all by yourself?”

“Mom, don't worry. I'm fine. No one, outside
of the staff, knows I'm in here.”

Elaine Kennedy didn’t comment for a few
moments. “I hope you're correct.”

Morgan pressed her lips together and bit back
a reply. Her mother’s worry and skepticism was understandable, but
her concern about being alone at the store made Morgan edgy. Over
the years, her mom had demonstrated time and again an uncanny way
of anticipating things before they happened. More than women’s
intuition, both Morgan and her sister Victoria were half convinced
her mother possessed some level of psychic ability.

“Do you have a feeling?” Morgan asked.

“Nothing specific,” the older woman
replied.

Morgan raked her fingers through her hair and
sank back in her chair. Her mother’s feelings or hunches were hard
to deal with. She in effect delivered a “you’ve been warned” notice
without exactly giving you anything specific you could actually do
something about.

“Mom, I need a favor.”

“What?”

“Shawn would like to have your room at Copper
Creek tomorrow night. I’ll get you another room for the night.
Okay?”

Her mother laughed. “Fine, I’m looking
forward to meeting your
bodyguard
tomorrow.”

“Mom, he’s just doing his job.”

“Of course,” her mother’s voice sounded
suitably serious, but Morgan sensed that the woman was grinning on
the other end of the phone.

“Thanks. I'll set up a reservation for your
room right now. Have dad give me a call when he gets in.”

“I will and Morgan, please be careful.”

Morgan hung up the phone, sank back in the
chair and mulled the conversation over. No matter what good
happened, her stalker cast a shadow on her life. This needed to end
and soon.

***

Frank surveyed the parking lot searching for
an open parking space. The old battleship of a car needed room and
he’d been reduced to strategizing where to beach it. Spying a few
open spaces at the back of the shopping center, he slowly trolled
toward them. If he took a couple spaces no one would complain, in
fact they’d probably assume that the car belonged to someone who
worked at one of the stores.

He eased into a space beside a red pickup
truck and turned off the motor. A light glaze of sweat glistened on
his skin. Even with the air-conditioning running full blast, his
grandmother’s vehicle was a rolling greenhouse. Waiting for Morgan
to appear in her car was out of the question. He glanced at his
wristwatch. It was a few minutes before ten, and she should be here
any time. He reached over and opened the door. He’d go back to the
coffee shop and wait there until she appeared.

An hour and a half later, Frank jabbed the
bottom of the plastic cup with the straw in a vain effort to break
the remaining ice. A steady stream of people had come and gone from
the store, but Morgan was still missing in action. He shifted in
the chair and fingered the cup as he considered walking into the
store to see if maybe he’d missed her arrival. He got up and dumped
his cup into the trash.

He was about to pull the door open when a
large black SUV cruised past the café window. Frank froze and
stared at the driver.
Was it him, the man in the suit?
He
walked down the length of the window and angled for a better
view.

The man stepped out of the vehicle and
surveyed the parking lot. Frank held his breath and waited. Oh
yeah, it's him, Frank thought. His heart pounded. What's that they
say? Fight or Flight? Right now, he couldn’t do either. The driver
had a don't-mess-with-me vibe about him which made the young man
briefly rethink the wisdom of yesterday’s notes and road-kill
rabbit. The man in the suit looked like he would introduce Frank’s
face to the asphalt without as much as a moment’s hesitation if he
approached Morgan.

For a few moments, the man in the suit stared
at the cafe. Frank instinctively stepped back from the window. Had
he been seen? He quickly surveyed the side door and cobbled
together an exit strategy should the man approach the café.

But the driver didn't, he turned and walked
into the jewelry store. Frank exhaled and then grinned. Now he
knew. Morgan was here.

***

Shawn entered the store and found it
impossible to proceed through the showroom to the back offices. A
crowd of people hovered over the counters and peered in the display
cases jockeying for a glimpse of the items up for auction tomorrow
night.

A diamond necklace sat front and center in
the main display case circling the throat of a black velvet bust. A
pair of sapphire and diamond earrings and the matching ring sat on
each side vying for their share of attention from the shoppers.

At the request of a buxom blonde, Mary pulled
out the ring and handed it to the customer who slid it on her
finger.

“Ooh.” She stretched out her arm and studied
her hand.
“It's like something you'd see at a Hollywood premiere, don't you
agree?”

Shawn suppressed a grin. He'd give her that.
The ring was definitely a red carpet piece.

“Would you like to see the matching
earrings?” the older sales clerk asked.

“Yes, please.” The blonde's voice had a
“gimme, gimme, gimme” quality which reminded him of a child begging
for an extra cookie. He watched Mary pull out the earrings and the
client placed them to her ear. Then he noticed the other woman.

The two could not have been more different.
The well-dressed older woman possessed a quiet elegance and she
perused the cases with occasional glances over at the young blonde
who preened before the mirror.

He fought the urge to smile as he watched the
pair. One was arm candy who aspired to be a rich wife, the other
simply was.

Mary acknowledged the older woman. “I'll be
with you in a few minutes, Mrs. Moore.”

“No problem,” the older woman replied.

The blonde glanced over and irritation
flitted across her face briefly as she turned back to the
mirror.

Jealous? Yeah, you should be. She’s got what
you want, Shawn thought.

After several minutes, the buxom blonde
surrendered the ring and earrings back to Mary.

“We'll see what happens tomorrow night,” the
young woman whispered.

“Good luck at the auction,” Mary said.

After the blonde left, Mrs. Moore walked up
to the counter and greeted Mary as an old friend. After a few
minutes of inspecting the pieces, the older woman left.

Mary escorted Shawn back to the security door
and punched the code to let him in.

“Are those two women regulars?”

“Mrs. Moore is. The other lady, I've not seen
before,” Mary replied.

“They both liked the earrings and the ring. A
little competition would be a good thing.”

The clerk smiled. “I'd bet on Mrs.
Moore.”

Shawn flashed a smile and chuckled. “So would
I.”

He made his way through the back door and
worked his way back to Morgan’s office. He stopped at her office
door and studied her as she chatted on the phone. She appeared
relaxed, upbeat and happy.

“Yes, it's better than we hoped for.” Morgan
said.

She glanced up, the smile on her face
widened, and she gestured to him to enter.

“Don't worry.” She paused, and he heard a
man's voice on the other end of the line.

“Your room reservations are made. All you and
mom must do is show up. Dad, Shawn's here, I've got to go. Love
you, too.”

Morgan set the handset down, jumped up and
ran over and gave him a hug. Shawn’s body stiffened and he took a
deep breath at her full body contact. His arms hung at his sides
but Morgan squeezed and he responded by closing his arms around
her. Morgan pulled back and looked him in the eyes. A subtle flush
rose in her cheeks as she wiggled out of his embrace.

“Sorry,” she replied. She retreated to the
desk.

I’m not
, the little voice in Shawn's
head chided. “What happened, did you win the lottery?”

“Better,” Morgan said. “The internet auction
is doing very well. Everything has a bid. In fact, if you add the
monies up, we've already exceeded the total revenue from last
year's fundraiser and we haven’t auctioned off the jewelry
yet.”

“Congratulations. Have you told your dad?
What did he say?”

“He's pleased. I mean, really pleased.” She
grabbed the computer's mouse. “Come on, check this out.”

Shawn walked around the desk and stood over
her shoulder as she clicked the refresh button.

“Look. The weekend getaway got two more
bids.”

He leaned over and studied the screen. He
caught the subtle scent of lavender, and he savored it. It was the
same fragrance she wore yesterday. The light clean floral scent
suited her.