Spring Rain (12 page)

Pete shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”

Now there’s a statement that offers me great comfort.

“We need you to come check for missing stuff.”

They were moving toward the door when Clay laid a hand on Billy’s shoulder, drawing him to a halt.

“Just how serious is this?” Clay asked Pete again.

Leigh realized what he was really asking was whether Billy should be allowed to go with them. She didn’t know whether to cry or get very angry at this show of concern almost eleven years too late.

“I’m not staying here,” Billy said with more than a touch of defiance. “It’s my house.”

“You’re staying here if your mom says you are.” Clay’s voice was crisp and commanding, his military background very clear. Even Pete looked impressed.

“How bad is it?” Leigh asked.

Pete waved a hand dismissively. “Messy but not violent. I think it’s okay.”

Billy started for the door, but Clay held on. “Leigh?”

She looked through the window toward the apartment. “It’s okay, I think.”

Clay nodded and released his grip on Billy’s shoulder. The boy bolted for the door, before his mom changed her mind, and glued himself to Pete’s side.

“Thank you,” Leigh said as she walked across the lawn beside Clay.

He grinned at her. “Your kid, your call.” He stepped back to let her precede him up the stairs.

As she climbed, she pondered how his one act of consideration and respect had undercut her previous anger. She was still very confused about how she should feel toward him, but she no longer wanted to punch him. If only she weren’t so afraid of the consequences of having him around.

She bumped into Billy who had stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. As she looked over his shoulder, she understood why and groaned along with him.

The living room was a shambles. Books littered the floor while empty bookshelves gaped. Sofa cushions were thrown about the room, and two philodendrons lay on the floor on their sides, soil leaking like blood. The desk had been emptied onto the sofa, and her school papers tumbled from the canvas carryall onto the floor.

Her eyes sought the one good thing she had, a Royal Doulton figurine that had been her mother’s. Two Regency era ladies sat on a sofa gossiping, their delicate features serene and lovely. Where her mother had gotten the beautiful piece, Leigh had never known. She just knew her mother cherished it, and for that reason so did she. If it had been harmed …

But there it was, sitting on the floor beside the end table with the drawer in it. Or usually in it. The drawer itself had been pulled out, and its contents, an assortment of pens, pencils, rubber bands, a deck of cards, scraps of paper, directions for games and warranties for appliances, littered the carpet. But the china ladies in their crimson and teal dresses were fine.

Her relief brought tears to her eyes. She blinked furiously, for some reason unwilling to let all the men see how emotionally vulnerable she was feeling. It was unbelievable that someone could invade her home and in that one uncaring act rip her small secure
world to shreds, or rip what was left of it after Clay’s invasion.

But why her apartment? Anyone with any sense knew there was nothing worth stealing here. People with things worth taking didn’t live over garages. They lived in big houses with electronic security systems and very large dogs.

God, what’s going on here?

Of course there was no answer. She reached for the Royal Doulton ladies and saw that her hands shook. She set the ladies back on the end table and stuck her hands in her pockets.

Her bedroom and Billy’s had suffered the same casual contempt as the living room with no real damage but lots of disturbance. In the bathroom the commode was full of toilet paper, and the sink was a masterpiece of modern art worked in toothpaste. She felt exposed as she thought about someone rummaging through her medicine cabinet and, even worse, pawing through her underwear. Some things were just too private for anyone to see!

The kitchen fared the worst. Syrup, peanut butter, and flour had been smeared together and used to coat the counter and the table. Most terrible of all, the sink had been stoppered, and the water left on to overflow. The floor was a shallow lake, the water contained by the metal strip that separated the vinyl kitchen floor from the hardwood of the living room. The little throw rug that sat before the sink floated like a low pile life raft.

“The water was on in the bathtub too,” Greg said as they stood in the doorway surveying the kitchen flood, “but it hadn’t gotten to the point of overflowing.” He looked at the amount of water in the kitchen, then at Leigh. “He left fairly recently.”

She shivered. What if she and Billy had come home while he was still here? She felt Clay’s hand rest on her shoulder, doubtless offering sympathy or support. She shivered again.

“Don’t let it bother you, Leigh. I’ll mop up here,” Clay said. “You go with Greg.”

She nodded and moved from under his hand into the living room.

“Paperwork,” Greg said. “Pete, get the information we need, please.”

Pete sat in her rocking chair and set his clipboard on his knee. His pen was poised over a form.

“Your name?”

“Leigh Wilson Spenser.” Her answer was absently given as she righted a philodendron. She tried to pick up the scattered dirt with her fingers, but it was useless. She needed the vacuum.

“S-p-e-n-c-e-r?”

“No, it’s L-e-i-g-h S-p-e-n-s-e-r.”

“S-p-e-n-s-e-r?” Pete looked at her with sudden interest. “As in Johnny?” It was obvious that he had just made the connection.

“As in Leigh,” she said coldly.

“Right, but are you the daughter of Joh—”

Greg cut him off. “Did you know that Leigh was my daughter’s teacher last year, Pete?” He smiled sweetly at Leigh. “She was Jenn’s favorite teacher by far.”

Leigh nodded her thanks for his turning the topic.

“Jenn’s in my class,” said Billy, who appeared from the bathroom with a wad of paper toweling full of mopped-up toothpaste. “For a girl she’s pretty cool.”

Leigh looked at him closely. Had he heard that reference to his grandfather? She wouldn’t be surprised if he had and was helping Greg derail Pete’s unpleasant, unprofessional prying.

“Jenn’s okay for a girl, huh?” said Greg. “You have a quarrel with girls?”

Billy thought for a moment. “Not a quarrel. I just don’t know what they’re here for.”

Greg shrugged. “They grow up to make good moms.”

Billy glanced at Leigh as she tugged the vacuum out of the closet. “That’s true.”

“And they’ve got to be in fifth grade on the way to growing up, don’t they?”

Leigh watched Billy frown over that thought as she flicked the vacuum on, effectively ending any conversation, good or bad. She swept long after the rug was clean, ignoring Pete and his partially filled-out form. Finally, Greg tapped her on the shoulder.

She flicked off the sweeper and looked at him.

“Just answer the questions, Leigh.” Greg gave his young partner the evil eye. “He won’t ask anything improper.”

Pete made no more comments about Johnny, but he followed her movements with an avid and discomfiting curiosity. What did he think? That she was a criminal just like her father? That she’d done this to her own home, maybe for the insurance?
Or that she just wanted the attention?

She’d known when she let Will and Julia talk her into coming back to Seaside that people here would always connect her with Johnny. History died hard in small towns. She’d considered the stigma of being recognized as Johnny’s daughter a small price to pay for the benefits of being loved by Will, Julia, and Ted and being treated as part of their family, however fragile the connection.

Over time, though, most people learned to separate her from her father. She was Leigh Spenser: teacher, friend, fellow congregant, and Billy’s mother. But new people were invariably intrigued or titillated. She doubted that would ever change or that she’d ever get used to it.

When Greg finally left, dragging his partner behind him, Leigh heaved a sigh of relief. She stood at the top of the stairs until the door below shut firmly behind them. Then she sagged against the wall and rubbed the spot above her eye where a headache hammered. All she wanted was to fall in bed and sleep forever or until the problems went away. She sighed. With her luck, forever would probably come first.

Maybe if she went to the kitchen and helped Clay finish mopping up the water, she’d forget her headache. Or at least the pain wouldn’t swamp her. It felt too much to ask that it go away, especially since the main cause was the man in the kitchen as opposed to the one who had broken in.

There might not be much she could do about Clay, but she could at least help him. It was, after all, her kitchen he was mopping up, and the faster it got mopped, the faster he’d leave. She turned, and for the second time that evening she bumped into the solid wall of his chest.

The dam broke.

It wasn’t that she hurt herself crashing into him. It was just that the collision was the culmination of one of the worst days of her life. She sobbed and sobbed, first into her hands, then into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She was humiliated and comforted at the same time.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people!” she managed when she was finally able to draw a shaky breath. “It’s not nice.”

“Shh, Leigh,” he whispered, rocking her gently. “Shh. It’s going to be all right.”

Fat lot you know!
She clenched her fists against his chest and cried harder.

“Mom?”

Billy’s scared voice put the starch back in Leigh’s spine. She straightened and scrubbed at her eyes.

“I’m fine, Billy.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Don’t worry.”

Billy looked completely unconvinced.

“She’ll probably punch me for saying this,” Clay said as he offered her a clean handkerchief. “But it’s a girl thing, crying like this.”

Leigh punched him on cue and had to smile as he grabbed his stomach and moaned dramatically. She heard a rocky giggle from Billy.

She reached out for the boy, and he came into her hug with all the need of a kid whose world has been knocked awry. It might have been exciting while you waited for the police, but it was scary when you saw your room torn up, your models knocked on the floor, your clothes heaped into a miniature mountain on your bed, your cat’s dry food soggy and floating in the kitchen lake, and your mother crying.

“It’ll be okay,” she said, kissing Billy’s temple. “We’ve survived worse than this, and we’ll survive this too.”

He didn’t even pull away. In fact, if anything, he burrowed closer.

“Come on, everyone,” Clay said as he wrapped an arm about Billy’s shoulders. “It’s time for a group hug.” His other arm pulled Leigh close. “The ultimate comfort.”

The three of them huddled together in a welter of entwined arms, and Leigh felt some of her tension dissolve. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Clay to begin to pray.

“Father, we need You right now. I ask You to be with Billy and help him feel relaxed. May he know Your peace. And I ask the same for Leigh, Lord. She’s had a rough hit with this vandalism. Help her feel safe and at ease in her own home. We thank You that there is no real damage. And I thank You that we didn’t meet the intruder.”

Leigh listened to Clay’s words and felt more tension slough away. Billy seemed to relax too. She realized that his head almost rested on her shoulder. She smiled, thinking how tall her baby
was growing. He rested against her at the same spot she rested against Clay.

Against Clay.

At that thought she stiffened and lifted her head. “Thanks, Clay.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound too clipped.

Act naturally.

She pulled away as gently as she could and ruffled Billy’s hair. “I think you need to go to bed, sweetie. We’ll finish cleaning up tomorrow.”

“My bed’s all messed up.”

She nodded. “Just push anything on it onto the floor.”

He grinned impishly. “That’s what I do every night.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she told his retreating back.

She stepped well away from Clay and said formally, “Thank you for all your help.”

He looked at her, a half smile curving his lips. “You are more than welcome.”

She flushed. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“It’ll be hard to miss me.”

Don’t I know it.
“Good night.”

He nodded and started down the stairs, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one. He stopped halfway down and looked up at her, concern written clearly in his eyes. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

“Sure,” she said, reminding herself that she didn’t need or want his concern. Too little too late.

The phone rang, and both of them turned toward it, startled. Leigh reached for it as it lay on the floor beside the rocker. She expected to hear Greg or Pete asking some question about the vandalism. She couldn’t think of anyone else who would call at this late hour.

“Hello, Leigh-Leigh?”

The blood drained from her face.

“I know you have the treasure, and I’m afraid I want it.”

“W-what treasure?” she whispered, turning frantic eyes to Clay.

“Leigh, what’s wrong?” He tore up the steps and to her side.

The voice, husky and somewhat hostile, slithered through the phone and wrapped around her, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“This evening is just a warning to let you know how serious I am.”

She stood frozen and dumb, unable to respond.

“The treasure, Leigh-Leigh?” he repeated.

She jerked and repeated, “What treasure?”

“Don’t play games with me, girl. I mean it.”

“I believe you.” She gripped the phone so tightly her hand cramped. She looked at the books lying helter-skelter and saw through the door to her bedroom all the chaos there. “I believe you.”

He gave a soft, very nasty chuckle. “That’s a cute boy you have there.”

Her legs would no longer hold her as terror bit deep, and she sank to the floor. Clay grabbed the phone as she fell.

“Who is this?” he demanded. Almost immediately he slammed the phone in the cradle. “He hung up on me!”