“There’s a freaking news flash. I’m alive.”
He grinned at her vehemence. “If he’d opened the car windows, the fumes would’ve affected you sooner and I might not have reached you in time.”
“Why did you come?”
“You didn’t answer your phone. Went right to voice mail.”
She knocked the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Crap. I turned it off last night when I recharged. When I grabbed it this morning, I forgot to turn it back on.”
Jake extracted his notebook from his back pocket. “Probably a good thing. While I waited around this afternoon, I figured out the time frame. I called before you went to the garage. If I’d reached you—”
“We’d have chatted and I’ve have gone my merry way to my death.” Tears burned but she willed them away. She hadn’t wept since she cried an ocean over her sister’s death. Now was no time to let her emotions run wild.
“Where were you going?”
“To talk to Ava.”
“She’ll keep. You won’t.”
At the affection in his voice, she nearly teared up again. She linked her fingers with his. “Thank you for saving my life. I should’ve said that before.”
“After Chief Galt’s bombshell, you were otherwise occupied.”
She huffed. “That man hasn’t taken seriously any of the attacks on me. He refuses to believe—” She clutched his hand. “Wait. I just remembered. Galt was the first cop at the barn fire scene.”
She saw the instant he understood. His expression hardened. “How do you know that?”
“He told me. In his office. Is it possible he was involved? Is involved?”
Jake’s brows drew together in his analytical expression. He was nothing if not methodical in process. “The investigator’s report must have that info. I just disregarded it. Galt was out on patrol. No reason to ask for his alibi. As a police officer, he’d have known about the fire-starting technique with the matches and cigarette used at Tyson’s. But why?”
Bile stung her throat at what she was thinking. But it fit. “Maybe Norman Galt was Gail’s secret lover that night.”
A dark look—his cop look—shuttered his expression. “Gail was eighteen. He’s what? Nearly fifty? Twelve years ago he’d have been thirty-eight or so. Not much younger than her dad. Or mine.” He shook his head.
“She said something that night I didn’t tell you.”
“Because?”
She sighed. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. At the time, it seemed inconsequential.”
“Give.”
“It was when she was storming around after claiming she broke up with you. She said something like she was glad to be rid of you because you were only a ‘boring boy.’ Ouch.”
He winced as he scribbled something. “Yeah, ouch. Sour grapes or her lover could’ve been older. How much older is the question. I’ll have my contact do some more digging.” He slipped the notebook back in his pocket.
“They’re keeping me overnight for observation but I can go home tomorrow.”
“About that,” he began.
She sat back and freed her hand. “You want them to keep me in this antiseptic prison?”
Smiling, he shook his head. “You have to admit that even with new locks, your house isn’t a fortress.”
She stiffened. “I told you before I can’t—”
“Afford a hotel. I know.” Smiling, he squeezed her hand. “The Amy Jo has plenty of room. Room that includes privacy.”
The heat in his eyes said privacy was an option. And reminded her how much she’d wanted him the other night—how much she still wanted him and liked him. He’d saved her life twice. With him she’d be safe from harm. But staying with him in the confines of the boat’s cabin? Intimacy with this complicated man would shoot holes in what resistance she had left.
“You could stay at the farmhouse,” she said. “Plenty of bedrooms. And privacy. Better yet, you could prowl around all night protecting me.”
He ran his tongue around his teeth, clearly to hide his amusement. “Honey, protecting you is a 24/7 job.”
“A job you didn’t want to begin with.” As if he needed reminding.
He wagged his head. “No more than you wanted me to protect you.”
“You’ve saved my life yet again, Jake. And you say you’re no good at protecting?”
“Just dumb luck. Doesn’t make up for my failures.” He paused, as if struggling with the idea he could fail again. “For now I see no alternative for either of us. Agreed?”
“Having me out there alone makes me bait. Wouldn’t that help you catch our bad guy?”
He shook his head at her outrageous—yes, she admitted it was outrageous—proposal. “You’ll still be front and center for interviews. Live bait is preferable to dead bait.” He watched his words sink in. “So, agreed?”
“We seem to be stuck with each other.”
“Whoa, who’d ever believe I could talk you into anything? But no 24/7 in a big old farmhouse. I need my sleep. If I have to protect you, I’d prefer an easier location. That farmhouse is too vulnerable.”
“You installed new locks. I thought I was all set. What else?”
“One, too many rooms to monitor.” He ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “Two, too isolated. The public landing has security lights. Two blocks from the police station. Three, when I go ashore, the harbormaster and any number of boaters are there if you call for help.”
He gathered up her hand again and kissed the healed palm. She nearly sighed at the gentle caress of his lips.
“And four,” he said, his voice low and his words precise, “the killer has set two fires already. That we know of. No reason he wouldn’t start another to eliminate his last possible witness. Even if she never remembers anything. The dry wood in that old farmhouse would burn like a matchbook.”
Eyes wide open, she smelled the smoke, felt the heat, heard the roar and snap of flames. She never wanted to experience that terror again. Her throat closed and her whole body shook.
Chapter 16
Late the next morning, Jake picked up Lani at the hospital and drove her to the farm, where Norman Galt waited for them beside the garage, the scene of the crime. She requested the appointment so she could show the chief of police how the attack had happened. And quiz the man about Gail.
He hustled around the Cherokee to her, but she slid out before he could reach the door. She was still shaky and weak from the carbon monoxide. Pale but determined. All he could do was stand by in the light fog, thinning under the sun’s rays.
The big man stroked his mustache and hitched up his gun belt as they joined him. Although shaded by the brim of his DHPD cap, his unsmiling face held a skeptical look. “Glad to see you’re up and about, Ms. Cameron. I won’t take too much of your time.”
“I’m fine, Chief.” She kept a firm grip on the garage door handle. “Showing you what happened yesterday is important.”
“My sergeant and another officer went over this place for evidence. Like I told you, we found nothing to suggest anyone was here but you.” His mouth thinned as he glanced at Jake. “And then Wescott. You can see the drag marks when he pulled you out.”
She flashed Jake a small smile before turning back to Galt. “Nevertheless, I’ll walk you through what happened.”
Jake observed as she entered the small garage, her sneakers scuffing the stones. No noxious odors greeted them, only earthy and slightly musty smells mingled with traces of motor oil and gasoline. The rental VW sat on their right. A shelf on the left wall held clippers and other small garden tools.
Lani narrated her actions as she went through yesterday’s events. Locking the door, hearing rustling but thinking it a squirrel. Hearing a new noise, worrying and readying her pepper spray. Then excruciating pain and nothing. “I never saw anything but a blur of movement in the shadows, so I have no description. You didn’t find anything in the car? No fingerprints?”
“Only yours. A few
hairs, long and dark, like yours. No alien fibers. My sergeant talked to Buddy. The car was detailed before you rented it, wiped down from stem to stern. If there was an attacker, he wore gloves.”
“If, Chief?” Jake said, stepping closer to Lani, who looked shaky. She waved him off. “I saw a truck pull out of the woods and speed away. Looked like Ford taillights.”
Galt shrugged, scratched his nape. “Can’t prove a connection. No tracks through the field or anywhere else. You got no tag number. Lots of Ford trucks around. Could’ve been some guy clammin’. Low tide at the time.”
Jake had seen the truck before realizing Lani was in trouble, so he hadn’t paid attention. But he did return yesterday afternoon to go over the scene. He couldn’t refute what the chief said, even the mystery truck. Walking the old woods road yielded nothing. Countless tire tracks, all old in the rocky soil. Beer cans, cigarette butts, none fresh.
The assailant could’ve walked across the field or under cover of the pines and birches between the field and the shore, the same path Jake took the other day to join her. The same path Gail’s lover might have taken to join her twelve years ago.
He barely heard Lani arguing a point with the chief. A new suspicion turned him toward the pines. What if Gail’s lover, her killer, hadn’t arrived by car? He could’ve come by boat. But twelve years later would make sorting that out near impossible.
“You warned me about stirring up trouble by asking questions,” Lani said, and Jake shook himself back to attention. “Now when trouble pops up to whack me good, you refuse to believe me.”
“Didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” Galt’s deep voice lost its smooth finish as he strode out of the garage, increasingly stuffy as the sun heated its old-style tin roof. “But there’s no evidence to follow. I’ll keep my people on the case. Still, all this questioning riles folks.”
Lani followed him, stride for stride, skirted him, and pinned him with her gaze. “You’re already riled, so I’ll ask you. Did you know my sister back then?”
Galt blinked. Backed up a step, as if remembering the lecture she delivered yesterday. Jake ran his tongue around his teeth and studied his shoes.
“I remember you twins.” The police chief’s expression shuttered into cop blankness. “Hard to miss two girls so identical, but that’s all. Never spoke to either of you that I recall. Had my own troubles that year. Went through a rough time with my divorce.”
*****
“What do you think about Galt’s answer?” Lani asked later in Jake’s SUV. After the unsatisfying meeting with Galt, she’d packed a bag and they were driving to the harbor.
“He didn’t much like your question,” Jake said. “Hard to know how much his divorce colored his response. What do you want to do?”
She relaxed against the headrest. “No one has mentioned ever seeing my sister with Galt. No whisper about him. Only my suspicion because he keeps warning me away. I’d like to look into the possibility.”
“Galt’s background check came back. Honorable service record in the navy, then came home to join the DHPD. Been divorced twice.”
She sat up straighter. “Wonder if he was sleeping around.”
“My thoughts exactly. My old guys at the cafe might have a line on that.”
Lani had another idea, but the library would have to wait until another day.
*****
Jake stared out the porthole at the wispy clouds netting the gibbous moon and listened for sounds from the other berth beyond the canvas curtain.
He’d smothered a chuckle as Lani stowed away essentials for what she called her “protective custody” on the Amy Jo. For supper they ate the general store’s potato salad and chicken thighs he grilled on deck.
Fatigue was one of the fallouts from carbon monoxide inhalation, the doctor had said, so no surprise when she fell asleep in her deck chair. He bundled her below and into her berth before crawling into his. A little early for him, but he needed to assure himself she was all right.
He heard the shuffle and slide of cloth as she changed from her shorts and tee and slid between the sheets. Was she wearing her bra and panties? Or a silky nightgown? Or only her skin wrapped in the sheet and thermal blanket?
The remembered feel of her breast in his hand stoked his yearning to see her, all of her, and had his hands itching. Images scrolled through his imagination in an erotic PowerPoint presentation. Heated to simmer, he tossed off his sheet and adjusted his boxers to accommodate his hardening body.
He held his breath as he listened, feeling like a voyeur. But hell, it was his boat. Sort of. More rustling as she settled. A murmur or two. Then silence. He exhaled. Tried to relax. No go.
Having her so near, hearing her sighs, catching her scent, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep even counting the pings of the halyard against the neighboring sloop’s mast.
That was earlier.
Now after midnight the groan of the old boat and the slosh of water still kept him awake. An occasional gull squawk punctuated the quiet. He flopped around on his pillow. A breeze through the porthole brought cooler air and the night’s salty scents. But he still couldn’t sleep.
Lani was becoming increasingly important to him, more than was safe. For either of them. He’d do his damnedest not to let harm come to her, although his track record kept his gut in knots. He flopped around on his flattened pillow.
He was just drifting off when the swish and whisper of sheets popped open his eyes. Agitated murmurs accompanied the continued shuffling. She groaned, first softly, then louder in clear distress. He’d be surprised if she didn’t have nightmares. He swung around and lowered his bare feet to the deck. Maybe he should leave her alone.
“Noooo!”
Heart pounding, he launched himself off the bunk and flung aside the curtain. Lani sat upright. She gasped for breath. Her owl-wide eyes glinted in the porthole’s dim light.
He stood by the berth and watched her as awareness kicked in. “You okay?”
She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. As pale as moonlight, she looked small and vulnerable in a long tee adorned with orange flip-flops. A bandage held a gauze pad to the back of her right hand, where the saline drip had fed her bloodstream. The reminder of how close she’d come to dying made his gut twist.
“Nightmare?”
She glared at him. “No, Sherlock. A murderer crawled through the porthole and attacked m-me.” Her trembling lips negated her bravado.
“And you tossed him right back out. I heard the splash.” He crossed to the edge of the berth and waited, unsure of his next move.
The shirt had slid to the side, baring her left shoulder and giving him a glimpse of the elusive tattoo. But only a curved shadow. He jerked his gaze up to her too-round eyes.
Easing onto the mattress, he propped a pillow and leaned back. When he opened his arms, she snuggled against him and didn’t object when he wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. Draped her left arm across his chest.
She smelled of his deodorant soap as well as her shampoo. The combination was somehow more erotic and hardened him again—automatic where she was concerned but at the moment not convenient. If he made a move on her, she’d dump him overboard. She was frightened and still healing. She needed him. For comfort and not for sex.
He pulled the sheet over his legs and lifted his right knee. “Yesterday’s attack or the fire? The dream, I mean.”
She shuddered. “The fire. It’s always the fire. Lately with a new twist.”
Always. Seemed she had nightmares on a regular basis. “Want to tell me about it?”
She pressed closer to him and he tightened his hold.
“Okay,” she said on a deep breath. Her grip locked onto his ribs as if she were clinging to a life preserver. “There’s not much to tell. I’m on the porch. I smell smoke and feel the heat. Then I see it—him.”
He tensed, every cell alert. “Him? You saw the arsonist?”
Shaking her head, she leaned back an
d propped herself up on one elbow. Her eyes were luminous. “I don’t know what I saw. If I saw anything.”
“So what did you mean?”
“In the dream, I see a fire monster, a sort of dragon. Since the first dream after that night, always the same until now.”
“What’s different?”
“The dreams continue but no more dragon. Funny, now that I’m in Dragon Harbor.”
“A dragon maybe originally because of Dragon Harbor.” Maybe her return was transforming the imaginary dragon to the reality of memory. Not a good idea to lead her to that conclusion. “And now?”
“Since the threats—or maybe just since I came back to the farm—the fire monster has morphed into a giant flaming Bigfoot. He towers over me at the door to the barn. And then he roars and—” She sniffed and shook her head. Her dark mane curtained her face, hiding the facial scar.
Maybe she did see the arsonist. Maybe she was starting to remember. He swept her hair from her cheek. Tucked it behind her ear. Gently caressed her head. While trying not to notice the silkiness beneath his fingers or her softness against his side. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw popped.
When she relaxed onto his shoulder, he gave her a minute, then said, “Is that what made you cry out, when you saw the monster?”
Releasing her grip on his side, she laid her hand on his sternum. “I cried out?”
“Loud enough to wake the guests up the hill at the inn.”
He felt her smile against his chest. “I don’t know what made me yell. The last thing I remember in the dream is seeing Gail on the barn floor. I start to run toward her but my legs won’t move fast enough. Maybe I’m dragging her out and I can’t make it. I don’t...”
“It’s all right, honey.” He snuggled her closer. “You always second guess your bravery in trying to save your sister. Only natural but you did all you could.” More than most would. More than he did. “Grief eases with time but guilt is another matter. Even unwarranted guilt.” He knew from experience. But Lani was tougher than he was.
Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) Page 14
