Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming) (17 page)

She was so tired. They’d had wine with dinner. She hoped it would help her sleep. It seemed forever since she had slept a whole night through, deeply and dreamlessly. But there was another way to forget.

She rested a hand on the towel wrapped sarong-like around her as she thought of Jake’s warning last night: he would stay away from her until she said the words. The room had two double beds. Unless she said something, they would each take one. She covered her face with her hands. She needed Jake’s strength and warmth, she needed to have him beside her tonight.

He tapped on the door. “You okay in there?”

She straightened quickly and gave herself a last look in the mirror, then opened the door. “I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

He held out a glass with something pink in it. “Here.”

She took it. “What is it?”

“A little more wine.”

“Where’d you get it?”

Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe,
he gazed at her features lazily. “I went out while you were in the shower.”

“Oh.” She sipped at it, found it crisp and cool. “It’s good.”

“I don’t know about that. It’s not exactly vintage stuff, but I figured it might help you sleep.”

She darted a look at the beds.

“I like your outfit,” he said, smiling at her over the rim of his glass.

She held in one hand the towel she’d wrapped around herself and reached for his wrist with the other, giving him a penetrating look. “Are you drunk?”

“Only mellow, sweetheart. Just very…mel low.”

She took another sip of wine. She was suddenly as nervous as a new bride. “Maybe you’d better take your shower now.”

“Okay.” He pushed away from the doorframe and smiled into her eyes. “Keep my place warm.”

As soon as he disappeared into the bathroom and she heard the shower, Rachel stripped off the damp towel and got into one of the beds. She curled herself around the extra pillow and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t object if Jake wanted to play the protective male tonight. She was ready to grab at anything to chase away the emptiness, to cushion the pain of yet another disappointment in their search for Scotty. Who understood better than Jake? It seemed the most natural thing in the
world to let him take her into his arms. Anything to keep the scenes of what little Jamey Snowden had been subjected to over the past forty-eight hours from turning into pictures of Scotty.

She fixed her gaze on the crack of light under the bathroom door. The monotonous sound of the shower was almost like rain, inducing drowsiness. Her limbs grew heavy. She straightened out a tiny bit, sighing at the feel of the sleek percale sheets against her skin. She probably shouldn’t have finished that last glass of wine after all.

Hurry, Jake…

R
ACHEL MOANED SOFTLY
, resisting the images flashing through her mind in surrealistic confusion. A dream. A part of her brain knew it, another part responded with a rush of adrenaline to help her escape, but her limbs felt as heavy as lead. She swallowed in an attempt to unclench her jaws. Struggling to breathe, she tried to lift her arms to claw aside the weight of the covers, but she was mired in terror, paralyzed with the nameless horrors in her nightmare. Her eyelids fluttered as she frantically tried to avoid the moment of truth. She screamed silently. She didn’t want to see this. But with a fateful, hopeless sense of inevitability, she knew she must.

She heard his beloved voice.

“Scotty, Scotty, I’m coming,” she moaned,
thrashing her head helplessly on the pillow. A primitive urge for flight made her legs twitch, but they seemed fixed in place, trapped by the same lead weight that rendered the rest of her body impotent.

Tears gathered behind her closed lids, then flowed down her cheeks in hot torrents. Terrified, she watched a black specter hovering over a run-down shack. There was water everywhere and dark, dense vegetation. So much thick, tangled junglelike growth. It was an evil place, and Scotty was there. He was afraid and he was calling for her. She opened her mouth to call him again.

Rachel jerked awake, the sound of her own scream shattering the dark quiet in the room.

“Baby, baby, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Jake’s voice came to her like a lifeline in her terror. She homed in on its promise of safety, deliverance. Trembling, she threw her arms around him, hiding her face in his chest. Over the clamor of her heart, she heard his heartbeat, rock steady, deep and familiar.

“Oh, Jake, Jake, it was Scotty. I heard him. I heard him. He was calling for me.”

“No, sweetheart,” Jake murmured, stroking her hair. “Shh, shh. You were dreaming.”

She shook her head wildly, clutching him with frantic hands. “No, no, it
was
Scotty. He’s in a house somewhere. I saw him. I did, Jake. I did.”

Holding her by the arms, he gave her an urgent shake. “Wake up, Rachel! You’re dreaming. Wake up, sweetheart.”

“No!” She fought him off, flailing her arms. “I saw him. I mean it, I saw him. It was Scotty!”

Jake caught her to him, holding her tightly, refusing to let her pull away even as she struggled, whimpering Scotty’s name over and over. Against her ear he murmured reassurances, rubbing her back in long, soothing strokes. He sensed the moment she fully awoke. The frantic panting eased and she went still. She lay quiet for several long seconds, then moved a little, making a more comfortable place for herself against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone husky and low.

Jake dropped a kiss on her hair. “It was a nightmare, baby. It’s okay now.”

Her hand moved idly across his chest, tangling gently in the familiar springy curls. “It seemed so real.”

He leaned back against the headboard and pulled her close, settling her more fully in his embrace. “Would it help to talk about it?”

She frowned at the shadowy outline of a chair. “I’ve had a lot of nightmares since Scotty disappeared, but this was different somehow.” A small shudder ran through her. “It was all so vivid. So real, Jake. That’s the only word to describe it.”

As she continued to caress his chest, his hand moved familiarly on her arm. “Real in what way?”

“Well, the location, for one thing. I don’t know how my imagination could have conjured up such a place. It was so…so awful. I saw a lot of vegetation and trees and water…dark, still water.”

“Like a swamp.”

“Yes, like a swamp. And I’ve never been in a swamp, Jake.”

“But you’ve seen them in movies and on television.”

She sighed. “I suppose so. But what about the shack?” She swallowed, closing her eyes against the onslaught of fresh tears. “He’s in that shack, Jake. I know he is.”

“Sweetheart, it was a nightmare, the result of your worry and fear and the stress of seeing Jamey Snowden today.” He caught her face between his hands and forced her to look at him. “It happens, Rachel. It’s upsetting, eerie even, but it happens.”

“Has it ever happened to you?”

His expression changed, but he didn’t release her. “I’ve had nightmares over cases before, sure.”

“Over Scotty?”

“Yeah, over Scotty.”

“Did you ever have one like I just experienced? Did you ever feel like you were getting a message?”

“No.”

She nestled against his chest. “You know the weirdest thing?”

“No, what?”

“I’m ashamed of this part.”

“Tell me. I can keep a secret.” He cupped her neck with his hand and squeezed tenderly. Rachel closed her eyes, feeling reassured and safe. Feeling warm and connected with Jake in the elemental way of a woman with a man.

“Although I’ve tried to hold on to the thought that Scotty was…is…still alive—” her voice caught slightly “—in the past few weeks I’ve sort of lost hope. I’ve let myself begin to think that maybe he’s…gone, you know? Forever. Maybe I’ll never see my baby again.” She swallowed. “I know you’re going to freak out over what I’m getting ready to say, and I understand. I accept it because you see things more practically than I sometimes do. And you’re going to say this is something only a woman would come up with. And you’re certainly a lot more familiar with the ways of the world, the underworld…”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Rachel?” Jake asked indulgently.

“He’s alive, Jake.”

“Well, of course, that goes without saying, honey. Until we definitely know otherwise, we assume he’s alive. When have I ever—”

“No, Jake. I mean he’s alive and I know it. We just have to find that place.”

“Honey—”

She leaned back to look into his face. “I knew you’d react like that and it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you. Believe what you want, but in my heart, I know.”

He brushed at a strand of hair that clung to her cheek. “Okay, for the record, you believe with all your heart that our son is alive.”

“I do. Just when I was losing hope.” She blushed a little at the look in his eyes. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep before you got out of the shower.”

He chuckled ruefully. “My own fault. I guess the wine worked too well.”

She glanced at the other bed. It was smooth, obviously unslept in. But there was a pillow in the chair by the door.

“But not for you.”

“I guess not.”

“I meant to wait for you, but…”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

He tilted her chin up with his fingers. “If I stay in this bed with you, I’m going to want to do more than sleep, Rachel.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

Her eyes fell to his chest and she flattened her hand on it. Beneath her touch, his heartbeat was a strong, solid thud. She moved her hand slowly back and forth, savoring a pleasure that she had not known for too long. She impulsively and softly kissed him.

He caught her up in his arms and held her fast, as though to give her one last chance to change her mind.

But her arms went around his waist and she buried her face in his neck. His heart beat beneath her ear. She had one quick look at the hope in his eyes before he ran his fingers into her hair and held her still. “I’ve waited a long time, Rachel. If you don’t want the same thing, now’s the time to stop.”

Rachel hesitated. Their problems would still be there in the morning. Scotty was still lost. Her indiscretion had happened. There was Michael and the need to mend fences. But nothing seemed important enough to deny the forgetfulness to be found here tonight.

In answer, she lifted her head, offering her lips.

M
ICHAEL WORKED
the combination on his locker with a few deft twists and swung the door open. It was a pain having a locker on the lower level, considering his height, but because he had enrolled late, it was all he could get. When he started summer school, he could have chosen another locker, but he hadn’t gotten around to it. He might not have to bother. With Jake and Rachel in Orlando checking out the little kid who might be Scotty, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hang around.

He sorted through his books looking for his geometry text. Today was the first day since he’d come to Tidewater that he’d felt like holing up at home, but he hadn’t asked to cut because Miss Kendall was tough. He guessed it was part of her job description as county juvenile officer. She’d promised Jake that if Michael stayed with her, everything would go on as usual. That nixed skipping school. The only bright spot was that if his dad and Miss Rachel were delayed in Orlando,
Miss Kendall would let him hang out at his dad’s office, since she worked there, too.

Michael didn’t want any delays. He wanted the little kid to be Scotty. The way he saw it, finding Scotty was about the only thing that was going to save his dad’s marriage. But he still wasn’t holding out a lot of hope. While hanging around the sheriff’s office, he’d learned a lot about missing children, and it was all pretty depressing stuff. It would take a miracle for Scotty to be found safe and sound. It seemed to Michael that about the only thing left to do was to pray.

He used to pray a lot. When Mama Dee got so sick, he’d done it every night. When there seemed nowhere else to turn, it was sort of comforting. Although he wasn’t sure that prayers were answered. There were a couple of ways to look at it, he’d discovered then. At first he’d prayed that Mama Dee wouldn’t die, and sure enough she had lingered for months and months. But his grandmother was old and in a lot of pain. In a way, dying had relieved her pain and suffering. Wasn’t that a merciful thing for God to do? So, you could say his prayers were answered, although not in a way that made him happy. On the other hand, if she’d lived, that would have been a straight answer to his prayer. But watching her suffer would have been terrible.

So he had mixed emotions about prayers.

“Hey, Mike! Look out below.”

Too late to heed Todd Stewart’s warning, Mike grunted as gym shoes balled into a towel struck him on the head. Todd had the locker just above Mike’s. It was a running joke how much junk Todd crammed into the thing, and it was also known that you took your life in your hands if you were anywhere near when Todd opened it.

“Jeez, Todd!” Mike straightened, rubbing his head. “When are you gonna throw out some of that crap?”

“Soon, okay? Trust me.” Todd’s upper torso disappeared into the depths of the locker as he searched for something. “I know it’s here somewhere…” He emerged waving his math book. “Got it!”

Mike aimed an irate kick at the towel. “Yuck! That thing stinks. Take it home and wash it, for Pete’s sake.”

Todd gave him a bland look. “Hey, man. Unlike some of us, I don’t exactly have a plush setup at home. Thelma Pearson doesn’t do laundry for the likes of me.”

Mike felt rotten. The Pearsons were Todd’s current foster parents, and generous they weren’t. He mumbled something apologetic, then kicked his locker door closed.

“So, what’s troublin’ my man?” Todd wanted to know, glancing into the mirror on the door.
A quick check confirmed that the tangerine tuft in his hair was still stiff. He fell into step beside Mike.

“Nothing.”

“Tell you what.” Todd draped an arm around Mike’s shoulders, taking care not to stab him with the spiked studs on his leather bracelet. “Nobody makes double-fudge brownies like Miss Rachel. Whatcha say I drop by your place this afternoon and we do a few laps in the pool, check out those brownies just to see if they’re still top of the line and you can tell me what’s buggin’ you.”

“I can’t go home this afternoon. My folks are in Orlando.”

“Checkin’ out Disney World without you?” Todd shook his head dolefully. “Not good, my man. Not good.”

“It’s business,” Mike said. With his eyes on his feet, he completely missed the shy look he received from a petite blonde.

“Yo! Heads up, man. It’s Cindy Johns.” As she approached, Todd was all eyes even though her gaze was on Mike, who waved distractedly. Dropping his arm, Todd turned all the way around to watch her disappear in the opposite direction.

“Now that is some classy chick,” he said.

“Don’t call her a chick. She’s a nice girl.”

Todd stopped abruptly. “Okay, that’s it. What’s
buggin’ you? I know Cindy’s a nice girl. You know I know Cindy’s a nice girl. C’mon, man.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind, Todd.”

“Like what, f’r instance?”

“My folks are in Orlando because a little kid turned up who could be Scotty.”

“Wow. No kiddin’?” Todd’s face lit up. He knew how much Scotty’s return would mean to Mike’s folks. He cocked his head, sending his earring swinging. “Hey, radical! Way to go!”

“He might not be Scotty, Todd.”

“Well…sure, I guess.” They started walking again. “Then again, he could be.”

Michael kicked a paper ball out of his path. “If it’s not Scotty, I might be moving on myself.”

Todd sent him a look of disbelief. “Get outta here.”

“I mean it.”

“Are you losin’ it, man? You’ve got it made with your old man and Miss Rachel.”

“No, I don’t. Things are…not cool. It’s for the best, me leaving and all.”

“How in hell do you figure that?”

“Nobody can take the place of that little kid, Todd.”

“You don’t have to take his place, Mike. You’ve got your own place with them. They like you. Shoot, they love you. Like, I can tell, man. I know real feeling when I see it.”

“Miss Rachel doesn’t love me.”

“She does, man. You’re crazy.”

“I’m the cause of some bad things around there, Todd. I can’t go into it, because it’s personal. But that’s the way it is. If I don’t get out soon, it might be too late.”

Todd was shaking his head. “I don’t believe this. A great house, with a pool yet, a mom and a dad. You may not believe it, Mike, but I bet when you turn sixteen, he gets you a car.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve thought it over and my mind’s made up. If Scotty’s not in Orlando, I’m outta here.”

“When will you know something?”

Mike shrugged. “Today maybe. Tomorrow for sure. I’m staying with Jacky Kendall out at her place until they get back.”

“The juvey lady, huh? She’s okay. Tough, but okay.”

“I know.”

They were silent as they waded through the crowded hall. Todd reached his destination first, but instead of going into class, he stopped at the door, ignoring the students who jostled him trying to get by. “I don’t know much about families and stuff, Mike, and I was just kiddin’ about the car and all.” Looking away for a second, he tugged on the ear that had no ornament, something Michael knew he did when he was troubled. “But I
do know this, man—those people really care about you.”

Michael, chewing the tender inside of his cheek, said nothing. He’d spent the past twenty-four hours thinking it through. Jake and Miss Rachel did care about him, but having him around was too much of a reminder of bad things. They’d be able to patch everything up better without him. He’d made the right decision. He was sure of it. Almost.

Todd reached over and thumped Mike’s geometry book to get his attention. “You hear me, Mike? You’ll be making a world-class mistake if you jerk around with the sheriff and his lady. People like that don’t show up real often in this world. I’m tellin’ it to you straight, man. You better rethink this dumb decision.”

Michael managed a tight smile. “And you better do your laundry.” He turned and headed for class. Todd was a good friend. He’d miss him.

W
HEN
J
AKE RETURNED
to his office, he found Michael waiting for him.

“Ms. Kendall told me the little kid wasn’t Scotty,” Michael said, watching his dad closely.

Jake shrugged out of the suit coat he’d worn to Orlando and hung it by the collar on a hat rack in the corner of his office. “That’s right, son.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Thanks.” Jake sent him a brief smile. “We’ll just have to keep on looking.”

He went to his desk and sat down, flexing his shoulders to ease some of the stiffness in his neck. The drive from Orlando had been tense. There had been nothing to cushion Rachel’s disappointment. Until the Orlando thing, Jake had checked out all previous leads without her ever even knowing they had surfaced. He still questioned the necessity of subjecting her to unnecessary pain. Every protective instinct he had rebelled at hurting her. If this was the way back into her heart, he was willing to do it, but he didn’t have to like it.

He would have spent the rest of the day at home with her, but even before they’d reached the city limits, he’d sensed her withdrawing. He breathed in, feeling frustration and a niggling unease. Going to bed together should have helped. Maybe it had, but it hadn’t solved anything. Though they’d found a few hours of forgetfulness with each other, there was still something missing. It should be so simple. He loved Rachel, and he was certain she still loved him. But he’d lain awake last night long after she’d fallen asleep, wondering if love was going to be enough.

“Is Miss Rachel okay?”

He sorted through a pile of telephone messages. “She’s…coping, Mike. It’s hard on her.”

“Is she going to work today?”

“She said it would help to keep busy.”

“I wish she worked someplace else.”

Jake looked up then, noticing the strain on Mike’s face. “Don’t worry, son. It may seem dangerous after what happened with Kevin Nicholson, but I don’t think anything like that is likely to happen again. They’ve beefed up their security, especially in Emergency, where they’re most vulnerable.”

Michael shifted from one leg to the other. “Who told you that?”

“The administrator.”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Campbell.”

Jake’s gaze narrowed at something in his tone. “You know Campbell?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve met.”

Recognizing antipathy similar to his own, Jake smiled. “Not one of your favorite people, huh?”

“He smiles too much.”

Jake had noticed the same thing. It amused him that his son would find crocodile smiles as suspicious as he did. “He’s Rachel’s boss. I guess we have to tolerate him.”

“Yes, sir.” Michael made a face, nothing obvious, just a subtle compression of his mouth. Jake chuckled softly. “Better not let Rachel see that look. She seems to like him.”

“I gotta go, Dad.” Mike turned abruptly, almost tripping over his shoes.

“You mean home?” Jake watched him fumble with the doorknob.

“Uh, I’m… I think I left a book at the gym after swim practice. I’ll just jog over and pick it up.”

“Speaking of which, I guess we’re still on with Ocala for the next swim meet, right?”

“Right. Two weeks from Saturday.”

“What’s the good word?”

“Ocala’s not very good. We’ll beat them for sure.”

Jake grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “See you at supper.”

With his hand on the doorknob, Mike hesitated a second or two, looking over his shoulder at Jake. “Bye, Dad,” he said, then closed the door softly behind him.

For a few seconds after Mike left, Jake gazed thoughtfully at the door, a small frown replacing his smile. Something about the conversation with Mike bothered him, but he wasn’t able to put his finger on it. He leaned back slowly in his chair. The past couple of days had been hard on Mike, too, he decided. He should have thought of that. Although Mike didn’t know Scotty, he was the boy’s half brother, and he could hardly live with Jake and Rachel without sharing some of their concern. Jake sat still, considering. Maybe that was it.

Or maybe it had something to do with Rachel
and the incident at the hospital. Was it odd that Mike shared Jake’s lack of enthusiasm for Rachel’s job? He thought of Mike’s dislike of Ron Campbell and wondered if he’d somehow communicated his hostility to his son. He was going to have to be more careful in the future. If Rachel was going to work for the…for Ron, then—

The phone on his desk buzzed suddenly.

“Something in the McAdam genes, I guess,” he muttered, reaching for the receiver. “Yeah, Mavis.”

“Line one for you, Jake. Rick Streeter in Miami.”

He thanked her and punched the button. “Rick. How’s it going in the big city?”

“Only nine and a half years to retirement.”

Jake laughed. “Yeah, well, it’s your own fault. I tried to sell you on the joys of small-town life, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Uh-huh. And just so you won’t feel left out, we of the DEA are bringing big-town excitement to your little corner of the world.”

Jake’s amusement died. “What’s up?”

Rick, too, became serious. “We’ve got some stuff going down there, Jake. Your county has been pinpointed as the hub for the Ramirez cartel.”

“Ramirez? Jaco Ramirez? I thought we put him out of business over a dozen years ago.”

“Certain individuals in Jaco’s organization
survived, and they’ve rebuilt. Jaco’s one shrewd businessman.”

Jake made a sound of disgust. “It’s amazing.”

“Yeah. We hurt them, but we’d have to destroy every sleaze bag who’s ever turned up in the past thirty years to put them out of business.”

Jake felt the familiar angry frustration that had driven him away from the DEA. “But the man’s behind bars, federal bars. Twenty to life, if I remember correctly. How does he manage the cartel from there? Worse, how did he find his way to Kinard County?”

“His first lieutenant is his cousin. A lowlife named Luis—also Ramirez. He’s as smart as Jaco and ten times meaner.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Jake drew in a long breath. “What do you need from me?”

“Actually, not much other than some mutual cooperation. Our sources say there’s a major exchange coming up within a day or two. Ramirez’s security is tight. We wouldn’t have made him except for a fluke when one of our undercovers got involved with one of Luis’s women. He uses a lot of women—and kids—as drops and suppliers.”