Splashdown: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 3) (4 page)

Neither man said anything. Richards wrote in his book again. “How did you know where this tent city was?”

“Sharee has taken me there a few times.”

His head moved in Sharee’s direction. “You still work for Downtown Ministries?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about Victoria Lawson.”

“Victoria’s husband abused her.” Lynn interrupted. “Physically. She was running for her life.”

His head swung back her way. “She said that?”

“Yes. I picked up Sharee from work one day when her car was in the shop. Victoria came into the office, and she shared the whole thing with us.”

The detective’s focus shifted to Sharee. “She said specifically that her husband abused her?”

Sharee sat forward. “Yes. Most of the homeless share their stories sooner or later. Victoria said she’d run away when her husband threatened to kill her. He…he has friends in law enforcement, so the only place where he might not find her was among the homeless. Or at least that’s what she thought.”

“How long had she been here?”

“Not long. Just a couple of weeks. At first, she asked lots of questions, but then she kind of settled in.”

“Questions? About what?”

“Just about others in the camp. She was nervous, I think. Anyway, she had questions about the other people that were there.”

“Anything specific?”

“We talked about the children a lot. She felt sorry for them and wondered if any were alone.”

“Were they?”

“Some come and go, but mostly they’re with family. If they are alone, when we go there, they hide. They don’t want to end up in the system.”

“Did she have anything else to say about her husband or anyone else she was afraid of?”

“She asked us not to give her information to anyone, which we don’t anyway.”

“Did she show you a picture of her husband?”

“No. She said he would hire someone to look for her.” Sharee glanced at Lynn. “She and Lynn hit it off.”

Lynn nodded. “She liked to get her mind off her situation, I think. She asked a lot about my job and what was going on there.”

“There’s no missing person report for a Victoria Lawson.”

Sharee sat forward. “That’s not surprising. Many of the homeless give us fictitious names. Sometimes we’re not sure they even remember their real name.”

Lynn drew an impatient breath. “Her husband wouldn’t file one anyway. She was running because he’d beaten her up and threatened to kill her. Which he did.”

The detective’s eyes bored into hers. “The deceased’s injuries were from blunt force trauma. In a hurricane, that might not indicate murder.”

Lynn narrowed her eyes. “I was told it was murder.”

“No, Ms. Stapleton, you told the deputy on the scene it was murder.”

“That’s not true.”

His eyes darkened. “Not only is that true, but as soon as he arrived, you said you knew who the victim was.”

A day later, John dropped the last fence post into the hole he’d dug. Pedro Gonzalez filled it with wet cement. They shoveled sand around it. When both men stood back, their eyes followed the line of fence posts down the edge of the church property, past the pond and stand of cypress.

John nodded. Back-breaking work, but they’d needed to do it today before the earth dried again. The damp earth made for easier digging than sandy soil that kept falling in on itself. Now the worst was done—like the hurricane. Three days ago, he fought its fury to get to Sharee, and now just a mild wind remained.

He sent a grin to Pedro. “Finished the first part.”

Pedro’s smile showed white against his dark skin. “
Si
, but tomorrow we roll out the fencing.”

“Tomorrow, yes, but we’re finished for today, thanks to your help. The maintenance around the church is becoming tougher each year.”

Pedro’s smile held as he picked up the bags from the dry concrete and then the large bucket. John began to gather up tools, also. With two working, the job had progressed faster than he’d anticipated.

John heard someone call and shifted to see two men come from the wooded lot next to the house. Pedro grunted. John lifted a brow. The same two men who’d sat on the stools watching Sharee and the other women the day after the hurricane.

His jaw tightened. “They’re still here?”

Pedro nodded. “They didn’t come back to the camp. We thought they’d moved on.”

He studied them, the body builder in sharp contrast to the other man. Pedro nodded at them in greeting.

“You got any work around here?” The thin one asked, giving a quick smile.

“You want work?” Pedro asked. “Good time to come when we begin to put everything away.”

John’s eyes slid to Pedro and then back to the two men. “If you’re serious about work, come to the church tomorrow, to the office, and talk with the Pastor.”

“Okay. Nothing else today?”

“Pedro put it well.”

“Your wife? She’s not home? She fixed a good meal the other day.”

“My wife is not hiring. The Pastor does that.” He fought with his impatience. God’s love extended to all, not just those with whom he felt comfortable. “There’s food and new tents, I heard, at the homeless camp where you were. I can take you there in about half an hour if you want. Just hang around. I need to finish putting everything away.” He started to turn but added, “My house is off limits today.”

The taller of the two men smirked but said nothing. The other gave his quick smile. “Off limits, huh? Guess she surprised you with all the people before. Gotta admit, she was generous.”

“In half an hour.” John hefted the tools and walked away. He heard Pedro following. John unlocked the work building, flipped on the lights, and began putting away the tools. “What’s the scoop on them?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“I got no scoop.” The sound of Pedro hanging the shovels in their clips added to his mutter. “Warren’s been around for years. That’s the thin one. He likes the streets. Not looking to get off. He has money sometimes.”

John turned. “Does he? Odd jobs?”

Pedro shook his head, shrugged his shoulders. “The other—his name is Afton—showed up last week, moved in with Warren. They’ve got some history together. I think I see him before. We thought they’d gone,
hermano
. Moved on. But they’re still here.”

“Yeah. Right here. Right next to my house.” He shoved a drawer closed.

A smile stretched Pedro’s face. “And next to Sharee? Your wife does have a generous heart,
mi amigo
. She’s given me a ride many times and food. Bus cards, too. She does much for the homeless.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not happy about that?”

“It’s not her heart or the fact that she helps. It’s because she puts herself in danger.” He picked his words with care. “I don’t like her picking up hitchhikers.”

“I will remember that.”

John shook his head. “Pedro, I don’t mind her giving you a ride. I trust you.” He glanced past him to the window above the workbench, “But those two out there, no.”

Pedro followed his gaze. “You might have to tell her that, my friend.”

He watched the body builder turn toward their house and stand staring at it. “Again, you mean. I might have to tell her again.”

***

Lynn sat back, closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the deli—the clattering of plates, the white noise of continuous conversation. She inhaled the smell of risen bread and garlic salami and matzo ball soup, using the scents like a drug. Her head rested against the cool plastic of the one-sided booth. The Lucky Dill contained all she needed for a restful, rejuvenating lunch. So far, the workday had proved more stressful than usual, and she was starved.

“There must be better places to sleep.”

Lynn’s eyes flew open. She straightened and glanced across the table. Detective Richards stood, eyeing her, his hand resting on the back of a chair.

“Oh, Detective…”

“May I sit down?”

She straightened.
No. Go away. I want to be alone.
He hesitated, but then pulled the chair back and sat.

Lynn frowned. “I wasn’t asleep, but I was enjoying…the solitude.”

A slight movement of his head was the only indication that he’d heard what she said. He smiled. “Are you the type of person who can sleep anywhere?”

“I’m really not in the mood for an interrogation, Detective.”

“I was thinking of lunch, Ms. Stapleton, not an interrogation.” He picked up a roll from the basket in front of her and broke it in half. “They have great food here.”

She stared as he began to munch on the roll. What was he doing? Was he going to stay? “Uh, Detective Richards, I’m…I’m meeting someone.”

“Will I run him off?”

“Probably. So, if you don’t mind... “

“I guess I didn’t interrupt your nap then. Is this person you’re meeting someone special, a date or just a friend?”

She glared at him. “That, Detective, is...”

“Rich.”

“What?”

“It’s Rich. Rich Richards.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head. “No understanding parents.” He munched on the second half of the roll.

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Are you always this pushy?”

A wry smile. “That’s better than the other adjectives I’ve heard.”

“What do you want?”

“I enjoyed looking at you.”

She clenched her jaw. “Look, I really don’t…”

“You looked so relaxed with your head back, hands folded in your lap. I need to learn to relax like that.”

“Oh.”

“Are you ready to order?” A server asked, stepping forward.

“Yes.” Rich sent her an amused glance. “I think we are. I’ll take a plate of corned beef, potatoes, and carrots. Oh, and cornbread with it.” His gaze went to Lynn. “What will you have?”

“I told you I was meeting someone.”

“I assumed from the way you said it that it was a lie.”

Lynn felt her teeth grate. “I don’t think I’m hungry.”

Rich stared at her a minute then looked up at the waitress. “You have that Mediterranean Salad on special today? Bring that. I’m sure she’ll love it.” He looked at Lynn. “What would you like to drink?” When she said nothing, he ordered iced tea, unsweetened.

As the waitress walked away, Lynn rose from her seat and picked up the Coach purse beside her. Pushy was not the word for the man. Aggressive. Overbearing. Arrogant.

He touched her hand, but she snatched it away. “If you’re meeting someone, I’ll find another table.”

“You were right. That was a lie. I’m not meeting anyone, but I’m not eating with you either.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll say something you shouldn’t?”

“What?” Her voice rose. “Where do you get off...” 

“You know, that whole line you gave us yesterday was unbelievable.”

Lynn sat back down, leaned forward, and hissed at him. “That was the truth. You obviously can’t tell the truth from a lie.”

“And you lie with such ease.”

“I do not!” His grin sent flames jumping inside her. 

“No? Then tell me the truth about the other day—why you went out to a homeless camp in a hurricane.”

“I told you already, and it was the day
before
Bella hit.”

“You had one conversation with this woman, and you were so concerned about her that you were willing to drive through a hurricane, risk your life, wade through mud and muck to find her and take her to a shelter or a hotel.
If
she was even there.”

“I knew her better than that.”

“You want to explain?”

“There’s nothing to explain. We just clicked. The day she came to the ministry’s office, I happened to be there. She unloaded on Sharee, on both of us actually and she…” Lynn stopped for a minute, a picture of Victoria rising before her. Pain circled her heart. Her voice softened. “I saw her several times after that. In spite of her circumstances, she could laugh and joke. She had courage. She was intelligent. It hit me wrong that a woman like that had to give up everything because
some man
threatened to kill her, and the only thing law enforcement could do was pick him up after the fact.” She sat back and glared. “What good is that?”

“Did she have a restraining order against him?”

“Of course. Not that it did any good. He stalked her and showed up at work, threatening her, and she realized she needed to do something desperate.”

“So she decided to become homeless? That is desperate. Why didn’t she go to the local women’s shelter?”

“Her husband had a friend in the police department that fed him information. So, you can see why I think…” She stopped but started again in a different voice. “Victoria was a friend.” She dropped her head and studied her hands, drawing in the clattering of dishes and the smell of fresh baked bread, anything to keep back the emotion.

Neither spoke for a while. Snippets of other conversations came their way—everyday concerns that had nothing to do with violent or sudden death.

The detective took another roll. “Okay. You run defense for Representative McCloud, don’t you?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Isn’t that girl he’s carting to civic meetings lately homeless?”

Lynn frowned. “She was.”

“Ah. But not anymore? Thanks to Representative McCloud.”

“Look. Just because something’s in the news, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“So, he’s not having an affair with her?”

“No, he’s not. In fact, I’ve had more contact with her than he has. And when they accused him of driving her home at midnight, I was in the car, too. Funny how they forgot that fact.” Lynn knew sarcasm edged her voice. When he said nothing, she added, “And no, I am not in love with him, so just drop your antenna.”

His grin caught her off guard. He ran a hand through his black hair. “It’s not easy being in law enforcement.”

“No?”

“No.”

They both pulled away as the server set the plates before them. “Anything else I can do for you?” the woman asked.

Lynn glowered across the table at him but shook her head.

“This is excellent. Thank you.” Richards held Lynn’s gaze. When the woman walked away, he leaned forward. “For instance, right now I’d just like to have lunch with a pretty woman and talk about other things.”

“Flattery and that appeal to my compassion will get you nowhere,” she said.

“I’m buying lunch,” he said, “and you’ll love the salad.”

Lynn scowled but looked down at the salad. A thick pita, spread with what looked like hummus, topped with finely chopped veggies and chicken made an appetizing presentation. Her stomach reminded her how hungry she was. She lifted her gaze to his.

His face was hopeful. She shook her head. “You’re more con artist than cop.”

He nodded at the food. “Try it.”

“Since you’re buying…”

“Ah. A woman with an economic component.” He glanced down at his plate of corn beef and cabbage and picked up a knife and fork. “Now this, this will be great, too.”

Lynn lifted her fork, raised a silent prayer to God, and began to eat.