Niall gently set her to one side and stared at the other man. Quite deliberately, he drew his sport coat aside enough to reveal the badge and weapon worn at his waist. Glenn’s gaze dropped to them. At last displaying the first hint of caution, he retreated a step.
“Ms. Brooks,” Niall asked, “is this gentleman on my list to investigate?”
She opened and closed her mouth, finally settling on an evasive, “Detective MacLachlan, this is Glenn Jones. We, er, had a family court hearing this morning.”
“I see.” He studied Glenn coldly. “And what is it you wanted to say to Ms. Brooks, Mr. Jones? I think I’ll stay to hear it.”
Glenn was too enraged to retreat. “She knows nothing about my family! Nothing.” His voice was a low snarl. “But she stuck her nose in, anyway, and did her best to steal my kids from me. All that fat slob of an ex-wife of mine wants is to pay me back for losing interest in her. She doesn’t give a damn about the kids. And you!” His glower found Jane. “You somehow convinced the goddamn judge to let her have my children.”
Jane knew better than to try to argue. Truly, she did. But cowering behind someone else wasn’t her style, either. “That might be because Renee gives some thought to what they need, not what she needs,” she returned, as coolly as she could.
He took one aggressive step forward. “I’ll get them back. Don’t kid yourself I won’t!”
Niall took a step, too, all but freezing the shorter man with a wall of ice. “Watch your tone!”
“And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
“Detective, is there a problem?” another voice asked.
Jane turned her head to see two uniformed officers had stopped beside the small tableau. It was one thing she liked about the courthouse; she was never truly alone.
“No,” Niall said, his expression hard. “I believe Mr. Jones felt the need to vent. And he’s now done that. Isn’t that right, Mr. Jones?”
Face now beet red, Glenn muttered, “I’ve said what I meant to,” and started to turn away, then apparently couldn’t resist being stupid. “But don’t think we’re done,” he said, with one last snarl over his shoulder.
Niall moved with shocking speed, grabbing the man’s shoulder and spinning him around. In a very, very soft voice, he said, “I believe that could be construed as a threat.”
For the first time, Glenn had the sense to look alarmed. “What are you talking about? I’m filing an appeal! How’s that a threat?”
Niall released him with a contemptuous flick of his hand. “I do suggest, Mr. Jones, that in the future you keep your distance from Ms. Brooks. Since you’re now on record issuing what, as I said, can easily be construed as a threat.”
“You’re crazy!” he exclaimed, and hurried toward the courthouse.
With a nod, the two officers continued on. Jane and Niall were left standing there, Niall watching with a chillingly speculative expression until Glenn disappeared into the courthouse.
“Did you know a former employee of his alleged that he raped her?” he said.
Jane nodded. “Yes. There have been other allegations of sexual harassment. Unfortunately, nobody ever quite pins anything on him. He really is a creep.”
Niall turned his head to look at her. “Is the fifty-year-old grandma we discussed his mother?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said with a grimace. “I expected her to chase me out, too.”
The detective frowned. “Was she contesting her own son as well as her former daughter-in-law for custody?”
“Yep. Once you meet her, you almost find yourself feeling sorry for Glenn.”
His rumble of a laugh reminded her of one of Duncan’s; reluctant, as if he didn’t do it often.
“I really don’t think Glenn is the one threatening me,” Jane said thoughtfully.
“I don’t know. He’s pretty pissed.”
“So is his mother.” She couldn’t help a shiver, remembering that vicious stare.
“There have been no other incidents?”
She shook her head.
He contemplated her for a minute. “If I hadn’t been here, I suspect he would have threatened you. Or worse.”
“He’s all talk.” She was sure enough of that to be embarrassed at the way she’d been running away. If not for the anonymous threats, she’d have walked calmly out and had whatever conversations she’d needed to have right there in the courthouse. She explained, “This—today—it’s how he operates. He intimidates people. And no, he doesn’t like it if you don’t let yourself be intimidated, but he always seems surprised and…I don’t know. Confused. I doubt he has any follow-through in his repertoire.”
Niall shrugged. “You may be right.” His gaze was sharp. “If you had to take a wild guess as to who sent you that note and whacked your windshield, who would it be?”
Her fingers tightened on her purse strap. “I…really don’t know. I’ve had quite a few people say a lot nastier things to me than Glenn Jones did.”
“Oh, I can believe that. Let me walk you to your car, Ms. Brooks.”
“Thank you,” she said, and he fell into step with her. “You can call me Jane, you know.”
“All right. Since I gather you’re a friend of Duncan’s.”
“A friend?” Her mind boggled. “I’m…not quite sure about that.”
He laughed again, and she thought maybe he did it more often than she’d suspected. “With Duncan, who is?” Something dry and almost, but not quite, hostile leaked into his voice.
Jane tried to tell herself she was imagining that weird tone. Duncan had called Niall the other night; he must trust him. And why would Niall work in his brother’s department if he disliked him?
She thanked him for his intervention and drove to Dance Dreams, where she set about unpacking a shipment of spring- and summer-weight women’s leg warmers in an array of delicious colors. She decided to put a couple pairs in the front window and a display of the others on a table that currently held a rather artistic arrangement—in her not unbiased opinion—of a dance bag, a couple of leotards, pointe shoes and half a dozen shoe ribbons laid out like rivers of color. She liked to change the display every few weeks.
Somehow it didn’t surprise her when Duncan called a few hours later.
“Niall told me about the SOB who got in your face outside the courthouse.”
“Hello, Duncan.”
There was a momentary silence. “Jane.”
“Yes, Mr. Jones decided to express his displeasure with the judge’s decision, specifically my role in it. There wasn’t anything new in that. It was nice of Niall to intervene, though.”
“It sounds like it was lucky he was there. Damn it, couldn’t you get an escort out to your car?”
She sighed. “Yes, I probably could, but as I told Niall, I really doubt I was in any danger. The man only wanted to yell at me.”
He mumbled something she couldn’t make out. Which was probably just as well. He probably sympathized with people who yelled at her. “For your safety, have you considered getting a concealed weapons permit?”
“I have never been attacked.”
“You could be,” he grumbled.
“Do you recommend every prosecuting attorney carry a gun? Every social worker? We all face disgruntled people on a regular basis. I’m sure I could think of a dozen other professions with the same problem. As a police captain, is that really what you want to see?”
“Damn it, you’re a woman!”
He was stepping onto dangerous territory. If he suggested she was less capable because she was a woman…
“Yes, I am,” she said levelly.
She heard his breath gust out. “You have no sense of self-preservation.”
“I don’t live in inner-city New York! This is a peaceful town.”
“Not as peaceful as you’d think.”
Well, he’d know. And Niall, too. What was it Niall had said?
You might be surprised.
She’d really rather not
be. Or not any more than she already had been, with the string of unpleasant messages.
“I’m careful.” Jane tried to sound firm.
He grunted, told her he’d see her tomorrow night at the arcade, and rang off.
Jane was left wondering exactly why he’d called.
DUNCAN HADN’T PLAYED a video game in years, not since… He had to think about it. Since Conall was fourteen, fifteen maybe. It occurred to him suddenly that his youngest brother’s birthday was approaching in May. He’d be… Thirty. Duncan gave a rough laugh. His baby brother would be passing the big Three-O. Who’d have thought they would both live to see it?
There was a time he’d sent birthday cards and the like to whatever address he had for Conall. He hadn’t done that in several years. This birthday, though, he thought he would, if Niall had an address for him. Not that Conall ever responded in any way, but…it seemed the thing to do. Or maybe it had to do with these unexpected pangs of emotion he’d been feeling lately. Reawakened sentimentality?
On impulse he bought a roll of quarters and challenged Jane to a few of the simpler games, including an old-fashioned pinball machine. She got into it, hunching fiercely over the machines as she operated the controls, letting out growls of frustration when she was defeated.
La guerrera indeed, he thought in amusement. Even Tito got a few laughs at her expense, which she acknowledged with good humor.
Sitting across from her at the pizza parlor felt different this time. They’d crossed some invisible divide when he had taken her to lunch. Now, everything they did together felt as if it might be a date. Except when he annoyed her, she’d become a little shyer with him, and for every time he studied her mouth, say, wondering how it would taste, he’d catch her eyeing him in return, then blushing when she was caught.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted more than that, but a kiss would be a start. Duncan was past caring whether it was a good idea or not. Once again, he was blitzed at the end of the evening with the realization that he’d barely glanced Hector and Tito’s way.
Hell of a guardian he was.
Of course, there was no chance for him to be alone with Jane in the parking lot where they all parted ways. Tito went with her, and Duncan had to stifle his frustration and go home alone.
He got a lousy night’s sleep. There were noticeable bags under the eyes peering at him from the mirror when he shaved. He nicked himself painfully and had a blob of tissue blotting the blood when he went to the kitchen for a quick bowl of cereal. The coffee he could take with him.
He was thinking about his morning when his cell phone rang. He had a meeting scheduled with his counterpart in the county sheriff’s department to schedule some joint training. He wanted to talk to him about their mutual participation in a regional task force, too.... Swearing, he had to hunt for his cell phone, which he hadn’t yet hooked to his belt.
“MacLachlan,” he barked when he’d finally found it.
The voice was very small. “Duncan?”
Fear hit him hard, a linebacker slamming a shoulder into his solar plexus. “Jane? What’s wrong?”
“I, um, I’m fine. It’s… There’s something really awful on my doorstep. I was going to grab my newspaper and…” She made a gulping sound. Controlling tears, or nausea? “I should have called Niall and not you, huh? I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve got his number.”
She’d thought of him first. Wanted him. The realization was almost as powerful as that first rush of fear.
“I’m on my way.” He stuffed his tie into his pocket and grabbed his gun and badge. “Do you want me to call Niall for you?”
“You don’t have to come. Really, I’m not hurt or anything.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I am.”
He expected her to keep arguing. When instead she said, almost meekly, “Thank you,” Duncan felt a weird cramping sensation in his chest. “If you wouldn’t mind calling him…”
“No,” he said gruffly. “Are you in your house? Door locked?”
“Yes. After screaming. I don’t think I ever have before.”
“What’s on your porch? No,” he decided. “Don’t tell me. I’d rather see it fresh.”
“Fresh…” Her voice wavered. “I’ve got to go.” And the silence told him she’d abruptly ended the call.
He drove too fast, using the time to call Niall. Should he reschedule his morning appointment? No, wait; this might not take long.
He barreled up in front of her house, set the brake and leaped out. He should have asked her more, he realized. Was this a crime scene of some kind? Would they need to preserve forensic evidence?
Out of habit he crossed the grass rather than approaching Jane’s porch via the paved walkway. Standing to one side, he looked through the railing.
A blistering obscenity escaped him. There was a dead animal on her welcome mat. He wasn’t positive what it was from here. A cat? No, maybe a rabbit? Whatever, it had been beheaded, and a huge butcher knife, glistening with blood, was stabbed into her coir mat.
Furious, he circled her house to the back door. When he pounded on it, her cautious face appeared at the window, and then she rushed to open the door and let him in.
“Did you see…?”
“I saw,” he said roughly. “Damn it, Jane.” Operating on instinct and need, he pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist. In fact, she wrapped hers around his waist and held on tight. He laid his cheek on top of her head, kneaded the nape of her neck and murmured God knows what into her hair until, finally, her muscles began to loosen.
Against his chest, she mumbled miserably, “That poor thing.”
Beheading was probably a quick way to go. Wasn’t that how farmers killed chickens? But he didn’t point that out to her.
“Did you call Niall?”
“Yeah, he’s on his way.”
They kept standing there, neither apparently ready to let go. Her hair was damp, Duncan realized. It smelled deliciously of something citrus. Grapefruit or lemon, he thought. Her hair was tucked behind her ear, and he found himself fixated on the sight of her earlobe, naked where she usually wore a pretty post earring of some kind. Pearls, last night. He’d been amused by the idea of a lady in pearls doing battle with aliens in an arcade game.
So she was barely out of the shower, not yet fully put together for the day. Had she had breakfast yet?
He asked, and she shuddered.
“Coffee, at least?”
“Um…not yet.” Still she didn’t move, and he was glad. Her body felt perfectly proportioned against his.
The knock on the door took them both by surprise. She jumped, and Duncan turned swiftly.
It was Niall, who greeted Duncan expressionlessly but Jane with sympathy. Her face was strained, but she hadn’t cried. Not my Jane.
Hell. He had to quit thinking that.
She chose not to follow the two men to the front door.
Niall opened it, and they both studied the exhibit so carefully arranged to terrorize her. Once past the first sickening sight, Duncan frowned, wondering how he—whoever he was—knew that she wouldn’t have left through the garage without ever seeing this. Or at least not seeing it fresh.
Fresh. The poorly chosen word knocked at his consciousness. Oh, damn. Her stomach had probably heaved when he said that earlier, on the phone.
Niall speculated aloud. “Did he ring the doorbell or knock? Is that how she found this?”
“She came out to get the newspaper.” Which still lay on the porch, a few feet from the bloody tableau.
Niall made an acknowledging noise. After a minute, he said, “Do you suppose he’s been watching her and knows she comes out every morning to get her paper?”
It was an ugly thought.
“Interesting timing,” Duncan said.
Niall glanced at him. “Following the scene at the courthouse, you mean? Yeah, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. If she had her dates right, she’s getting approximately
a message a week. This one is right on time.”
Duncan swore.
Niall had lowered himself to his haunches, where he could inspect the knife more closely. “They’re getting more explicit.”
The head had been set to face the door. The animal was definitely a rabbit, with long, velvety ears and now-glazed eyes. Duncan doubted this had been a wild rabbit. It had the fat, plush look of a domestic one, which would further sicken Jane if she thought about it. Not a pet stolen from some kid, he hoped.
Between Love and Duty Page 16
