by Lynde Lakes
Buddy was on the line with someone. She heard him say “I dunno” twice. She grabbed the receiver, and hugging him and Lissa tightly, she gave the address, forcing herself to say the numbers clearly. The dispatcher told her to hold a moment, and stay on the line.
No time. She handed the phone back to Buddy. “Talk to the lady for me. I need to find something to protect us.”
The top of the door splintered. Jen flinched, and let out a cry. The tip of an axe glistened through the slit. She saw a glimpse of a nylon-masked face.
Buddy’s eyes widened. Sobbing, he screamed, “Bad man breaking in. Now!”
Aborting her search for a weapon, she grabbed the kids and ran to the closet. “Buddy, climb up there and wait for me!”
With the baby on her hip, she raced a few steps to the bathroom, briefly placed the baby in the sink on a towel and opened the window. She spied a bottle of baby oil on the counter and dribbled a little onto the floor, hoping if the intruder ran in here the oil would send him sliding into a wall. She heard a loud crack. She grabbed the screaming baby back into her arms, whirled around, carefully avoiding the oil, and ran back to the closet and closed the door. In the darkness, she grabbed an item of clothing off a hangar. It turned out to be a jacket. She slipped into it, buttoned it around Lissa like a baby-carrier; the soft suede must have comforted the baby because she stopped crying.
Walls shook as the intruder broke through the front door and charged into the apartment, from the sound of it, chopping at everything in his path.
Praying harder than she’d ever prayed before, Jen scurried up the ladder, feeling her way, expecting that any moment the madman would chop through the closet door. When she pulled herself into the pitch black crawl space, she reached for Buddy and the three of them huddled together. She put her thumb into the baby’s mouth to pacify and keep her quiet. Trying to calm her own trembling, Jen clung to Buddy, whispering, “Stay quiet and don’t be afraid. We’re going to be okay.” But she knew that only God and a huge miracle would save them.
****
York’s neck prickled as he sped the long block from the hospital to Jen. The telephone line shouldn’t have stayed busy. A fire engine raced down the street in his direction, blasting a warning. He skidded to a stop in front of Shelly’s apartment. Sirens blared as the fire engine and two police units swung in behind him. An alarm jangled from the building.
He rushed inside the lobby. There was no sign of smoke, yet people hurried out of the stairwell and exited the building.
A bent, bald-headed janitor raced up the stairs from the basement. “Pipes breaking below,” he shouted. “Pounding upstairs, fire alarms going off—” The man glanced around. “Cops in the streets. What the hell’s going on?”
York’s heart thundered. He raced up the steps two at a time, squeezing past people on their way down. The second level looked deserted. He drew his .38 police special from his shoulder holster.
A door opened.
He crouched, ducked into an indentation in the corridor wall and pointed the gun. A blurry-eyed teenager with a gold ring in his nose peeked out, then shut the door again. A lock engaged. Whatever had been going on here, the kid must’ve thought he was involved. Another door opened a crack. He saw a flash of gray hair and a cane before it closed again.
These tenants knew something the rest of the building didn’t. No time to pursue that. He started to run again.
Glass from the fire box crunched under his stride. An axe lay on the floor. A few steps away, the splintered door of Shelly’s apartment stood open, the lock hacked clean off. God, no!
With gun at ready position, he eased inside the room. Overturned lamps and furniture reduced to kindling wood met his gaze. His heart thudded against his chest. Nothing moved. He fought the bile rising in his throat. “Jen!”
His own choked voice echoed back at him. He called again.
Silence.
A splintered bathroom door stood partly open. A window curtain fluttered in the breeze. Panic knotted his stomach. He took a step forward and slid into the counter, almost losing his balance. Someone had poured oil on the floor. Jen? He looked out the open window. Nothing moved on the fire escapes. The alley was deserted. He fought the ache in his throat.
The damage inside the apartment and the axe in the corridor suggested that the madman dropped the weapon on his way out. If so, he didn’t leave by the window. Did Jen? Or did he grab her and the kids and take them with him?
Behind him, he heard someone shout, “Police. Freeze.”
He recognized officer Burton’s husky, two-pack-a-day voice. He called to him, identifying himself. With gun drawn, Burton entered the bathroom. “Oh, it is you. You sounded different. What’s going down here?”
“A woman and two children are missing. The perp may have grabbed them.”
York followed Burton into the studio’s short hallway. Officer Montgomery joined them, crouched, gun ready. York noticed another door painted the same color as the wall. It had been easy to overlook. He cautiously opened it. The space was jammed with clothes, and an upright vacuum cleaner. York parted the clothing and found a wall with ladder-like rungs nailed on it. He looked up just as the rectangular cover of an overhead crawl space slid open. He stepped back, crouched and trained his gun on the black cavity. “Throw your weapon down and—
“York, is that you?” Jen said with a tremor in her voice.
Relief flooded York’s senses so rapidly his knees almost buckled. He holstered his gun. “Burton. Montgomery,” he called past the constriction in his throat. “The woman and children are safe.”
Shelly’s little boy appeared at the opening. York held out his arms. “Don’t worry, son. I’ll catch you.” The child scooted to the rim and dropped down to him. “You did good, son.” He winked at the boy and passed him on to Burton.
Jen eased herself to the edge of the opening, clutching the baby to her breast. “I had to put my thumb in Lissa’s mouth. After that, she didn’t make a peep. I was afraid...”
“Take a couple of deep breaths. We’ll talk after I get you down.” He reached up. “Give me the baby.”
Jen kissed the baby’s cheek, and then handed her down. York gently gave the baby to Montgomery. “Your turn, Jen,” he said.
She eased herself through the opening, backside first, and with the toe of her shoe reached for the top rung. York closed his hands around her hips and gently lowered her to the floor. She turned, trembling. He drew her into his arms, telling himself it was only to still her tremors. She relaxed against his chest and looked up at him with those incredible green eyes of hers. Tears rolled down her face. One clung to a Mickey Mouse stick-on pasted on her cheek. Careful not to remove it, he wiped it dry with the pad of his thumb. Wearing a stick-on to please children was something his old-fashioned girl would do. His heart twisted. Lingering emotions flooded to the surface. He slid his fingers into Jen’s hair, crushed her lips with his, forgetting where he was, and what he was supposed to be doing. The sweet, metallic taste of her jolted him, devoured him, and propelled him against her softness.
Jen wrapped her arms around his neck as though she’d never let go. Her tongue moved hungrily against his, unleashing a fervor beyond any he could have imagined. He groaned low in his throat. The intensity of her passion was too great to be born merely from the remnants of terror.
When they gasped for breath, she pushed him back a little. “I’m glad to see you, too.” In spite of the waver in her voice, her tone was soft with a highly erotic rumble to it.
He was vaguely aware of Montgomery and Burton watching, probably disapproving, but he was too glad to see Jen alive to care. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his own voice husky.
She nodded. Then as though snapping out of a trance, her eyes widened and her face flushed. “But the children...” She twisted from his hold and rushed to Montgomery who cradled the baby. She gently took her from him and said, “Good baby...such a good baby. You kept so quiet, my little darli
ng.”
Jen looked so natural holding the baby, so nurturing and warm. York couldn’t stop himself from drawing her and the baby into his arms.
The boy broke away from Burton and thrust himself against York’s legs, reaching up, begging to join the hug. York bent and lifted the boy into his arms, and then brought Jen and the baby back into the fold.
“Meet Buddy. My little hero.” Jen kissed the boy on his dimpled hand.
Officer Burton cleared his voice. “Thought you’d want to see this right away.” He held up a two-foot length of fishing twine.
Jen let out a little cry and swayed. He tightened his hold on her.
“It was on the floor by the refrigerator,” Burton said. “Doesn’t make sense, but I think this guy is your copycat strangler.”
His stomach knotted. It made too much sense. “He left his calling card...wanted us to know it was him.” Now he knew for sure. This break in wasn’t a random thing. The psycho was after Jen. “If you find anything else, let me know.”
Burton nodded, and turned away to brief one of the fingerprint guys who’d just arrived.
York returned his attention to Jen. “Did you see the intruder?”
“He wore a nylon stocking over his head.” She bit her lip. “And, he was tall. The slit in the wood where I saw his masked face was at least six feet high.”
“What about his voice?”
“Just grunts like a wild animal.”
“Who opened the bathroom window?”
“Me. A long shot,” Jen said softly. York saw her squeeze Buddy’s hand. “But that was nothing. This little guy was incredible. He climbed up into the darkness and sat up there alone without a peep until I joined him. Perhaps he was too scared to cry out. Even if he had, the ringing alarm, and the noise of the axe man breaking the furniture would’ve covered any sounds he made. “
Tears rolled down her cheek. York let her go only long enough to gently brush them away with his fingers. Oddly, his tenderness seemed to give her strength.
“I kept waiting for the killer to open the closet door, or chop it down. But he didn’t.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know how you managed to climb into the crawl space in the dark, carrying a baby.”
“God, angels, and miracles. The killer would have found us if the police and fire sirens hadn’t scared him off.” She paused. “Thank goodness they got here so fast.”
“You can thank Detective York for that,” Burton said, as he passed by. “His call came in before yours so we were already on the way by the time you called.”
Gratitude glowed in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m afraid I’ve never said any two words more heartfelt, or more inadequate.”
York winked. “All part of the service.” He hoped the tightness in his voice wasn’t noticeable to the other cops. He’d already behaved unprofessionally with that kiss.
No one seemed to be paying any attention. Montgomery and another officer who’d been talking on a two-way radio left the apartment to search the rest of the building. Burton stayed.
York surveyed the chaos. “I’m taking Ms. Lyman to another location to get her complete statement,” he told him.
Burton glanced around at the mess and nodded. York knew it would be a while before the technicians finished. He frowned. Shelly couldn’t come back here tonight. Not only was it unlivable, but with her connections to the case, she needed a safe house.
He gave Jen and Buddy a little squeeze. “Who wants hot chocolate?”
Buddy wriggled in his arms and pointed at himself. “Me do.”
York grinned at the little group. Jen’s gaze met his with such forthrightness that he found it difficult to swallow. He didn’t know where their relationship was headed, only that his feelings for her were much more complicated than he had first thought.
****
Fighting lingering tremors, Jen found it surreal to be sitting in the almost deserted hospital cafeteria sipping a steaming cup of coffee only a block away from the hacked-up apartment full of police. As York told Shelly about the break in, his words ‘madman’ and ‘axe’ elicited the terrifying image of the blade splintering the wood and a glimpse of a grotesque face flattened by the nylon. But overall the deep rumble of his voice had a faraway calming effect. It vaguely registered that he’d gone on and was now discussing where the young mother and her children would spend the night. Shaking off her own trauma, Jen touched Shelly’s hand. “You can stay at my place until yours is repaired.”
York shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, Jen. But even you can’t go to your apartment for a few days.”
Jen didn’t like the sound of that, but she’d straighten York out after they got Shelly settled.
As if to fortify himself, York took a gulp of coffee. “Don’t worry, Shelly. I’ll get you set up.”
Looking dazed, the frail mother clutched her baby tighter to her breast. “Get me set up? Where? I have no money.”
“I’ll take care of everything. I’m working on getting you into a temporary safe house. And I’ll see that your place is repaired and furniture replaced.”
Shelly looked down at her baby. When she raised her eyes again they glistened with moisture. “I have no family, and without your help, Detective Wylinski, I’d have to stay put, regardless of condition of my place or the danger.”
York looked down, as though embarrassed by the gratitude. To take the spotlight off him and ease his discomfort, Jen turned the focus to someone who needed it; her little hero. She forced a smile and gently tweaked Buddy’s nose. “This brave little guy saved our lives by showing me the storage area above your closet.”
Shelly blinked and her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t know he knew about that place.”
Buddy grinned, his lips ringed with whipped cream and chocolate. “Me an’ Jeffy saw you put his birthday present up there.”
“I should be mad at you guys for peeking,” Shelly said, giving him a hug. “But I’m not.”
Jen felt a tightening in her throat, suddenly taken off guard by her envy of the love between Shelly and her boys. The rush of emotion surprised her. While she planned to start a family someday, it was a vague plan, nothing she was in any hurry to pursue.
York sipped his coffee in silence, looking darkly masculine and in control. The arrangements he was making for Shelly were beyond duty. He really cared. Jen’s heart swelled. From the moment she’d met York, she’d known she was in trouble. Now, after that bone-liquefying kiss, she knew he could break her heart. She couldn’t be what he wanted—the perfect homemaker, the stay-at-home wife and mother. He had no right to ask that. But he wasn’t asking. It was her own heart, dreaming of what-ifs and knowing with her career anything permanent was impossible.
Before she could get her confused feelings sorted out, Ted joined them with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Everything is setup,” he said.
York introduced him to Shelly and Buddy, his deep voice sounding in-control.
Ted shook hands with Buddy. “Hey, I heard about you. You’re the big boy who saved the day.”
Buddy beamed. Jen appreciated Ted’s praise. The boy would need all the accolades they could give him to get past this terrifying ordeal.
York withdrew a wad of cash from his wallet and handed it to Ted. “This ought to cover the motel and dinner.”
Ted pushed the money away. “Loraine said they can stay in one of the empty apartments on the church property. She’s making spaghetti for us.” He smiled at Shelly. “We’ll have you fixed up and back to your own place in no time.”
Shelly blinked back a rush of tears. “You’re all so kind. I don’t know what to say.”
York gently touched Shelly’s shoulder and Jen sensed his incredible tenderness for those who needed him.
“We’re all in this together,” he said. “We just want to get that guy and keep you safe.” He paused. “Before Jeffy’s asthma attack, you were telling me about a guy named Joel. Have a last name?”
> She shook her head, looking apologetic. “The director at the rehab center would know. Sniffles said they had to put in a revolving door just for Joel.”
“I’ll call the director,” Ted said. “I know him from my work at the center.”
“Good. Thanks, Ted.” York turned toward Shelly. “As soon as they release Jeffy, Ted will take you to your temporary home.” He handed her a card. “If you need anything or think of anything to help us get this psycho, give me a call.”
She nodded solemnly. “He’s the same guy who killed Sniffles, isn’t he?” she asked with a catch in her voice. “I want him locked away forever!”
Jen was surprised at the fierceness in Shelly’s voice,
“Don’t worry. We won’t stop until he is.”
York’s tight words sounded like a sacred oath and Jen felt moved by his repeated demonstrations of emotion. This close call had brought out unexpected things about everyone involved, including herself and her feelings for York. If only he hadn’t kissed her. She moistened her lips, imagining she still tasted him there.
“This axe attack doesn’t fit,” Ted said, interrupting her thoughts. He glanced at York. “Any ideas what we’re dealing with?”
York’s expression darkened. “Just hunches. Let’s see what Officer Burton and the fingerprint team come up with.”
Ted smiled at Jen. “Should make one heck of a story,” he said.
York frowned and placed his arm on the back of Jen’s chair. His closeness made it difficult to concentrate. Maybe that was his intention.
“Perhaps tomorrow I’ll want to write it,” she said. “Right now all I can think about is how lucky we were.” Jen glanced at Buddy. “He’ll probably have nightmares from this ordeal for a while.”
York patted Buddy’s shoulder. “Kids bounce back pretty quickly. If I read this little guy right, he’s got the grit to get through this with no serious effects.”
Jen nodded and vowed to show equal courage. If they were lucky, Joel, the computer hacker, would give them a lead to the strangler.
