He took his time drying himself off, watching me, teasing me as the towel reached all the body parts I wanted to feel against my skin. He was enjoying himself. He stepped out of the tub and turned back.
"Come here."
I stepped to the edge of the tub and he took me in his arms, picking me up as easily as a child and carrying me to his quilt-covered bed. He pulled the towel away, his eyes moving across my body, just looking. Then he came toward me, moving onto the bed and lying on his side next to me. He stretched out his hand and ran his index finger in a line down the center of my body, igniting it with his touch.
He held me deep inside his arms, his lips whispering reassurances, until he felt me go limp against him and relax. A wave of pleasure and relaxation washed over me and I felt… well, I started to feel sleepy. I yawned and he laughed softly.
"I wondered when that medicine was gonna start slowing you down," he murmured. "Relax, honey, it's all right. I'm right here."
He pulled the thick quilt up around us and pulled me up onto his chest. My head rested on his shoulder, listening to the strong beat of his heart. I lay there wrapped in his arms, fighting sleep until at last I had to give in. The last thing I remember was the feel of his lips as he softly kissed my hair, and the scent of him, warm and comforting in the early evening.
Chapter Twelve
I woke up to the sound of a dresser drawer sliding out. I opened my eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. Marshall stood across the room, pulling on a black T-shirt and tucking it into the waistband of black and gray camouflage pants. As I watched, he reached into a drawer, drew out a thick equipment belt and strapped it to his waist. Next he pulled out a piece of black leather, with Velcro straps, attached it to his thigh, then jammed an ugly black gun down into the holster.
"Marshall?"
He turned, surprised by the sound of my voice. "Hey, I was going to let you sleep."
"What are you doing? Why are you dressed like that?" In the darkened room, he seemed menacing and not at all like the man who'd taken me into his bed.
He looked down at his outfit, as if suddenly aware of how he must have appeared to me.
"I've got a call-out," he said. "I have to leave. I thought you'd probably sleep through it or I would've tried to wake you up."
I sat up in bed, pulling the quilt up over my breasts. "What's a call-out?"
Marshall sat down on the side of the bed next to me and began pulling on heavy black combat boots.
"I'm part of the Special Response Team," he said. "It's a SWAT team. We get called in if there's trouble, the kind of trouble a normal patrol couldn't handle. If I get paged, I have to go."
He stood up, reached under the bed, and pulled out a black duffel bag. He unzipped it, moved some things aside, then pulled out a rifle case and unzipped that. The gun he took from that case was a nasty-looking weapon that he seemed to be examining.
"I don't know when I'll be back," he said. His face was impassive and his tone removed. He zipped the gun back into its case, closed the bag, and stood looking down at me. "I'll call you later."
I'll call you later? That was that? Now that I was awake I wasn't trusted to wait for him in Wanda's sanctuary? Was that how things went with him?
I tossed back my head, sat straight up, and glared at him in the darkness. "That's all right," I said, my tone every bit as cool as his. "I need to get home and see about Sheila anyway."
In the darkened room the clock on his bedside table glowed a red 8:45. Sheila was working at the bagel shop. My whereabouts were probably not too high on her list. She was at the age where she never expected anything to go wrong, and everything to always turn out right.
"Okay," he said, moving away from the bed, "I've gotta go. They're waiting for me. Just close up when you leave, the door'll lock behind you."
Almost as an afterthought, he crossed the room and leaned down to brush my lips lightly. "I'll call you," he said.
Then he was gone, clunking down the steps, walking through the empty house and out the back door. As I listened I heard the sound of his car starting up, and then the crunch of gravel as he left me. That was that. Almost no sign that we'd shared anything at all.
I pushed the quilt aside, stepped out onto the cold wooden floor, and began looking for my clothes. As I gathered them up, the phone on the bedside table rang. I stopped, staring at it. The tape in his answering machine clicked on, playing his message, then preparing to record. After the beep, a familiar female voice began to speak.
"Marsh," Tracy the door buster said softly, "did you leave yet? I'll try and get you on your cell. I'm just going to meet you over there," she said. "Don't worry about coming to get the van, I've got it."
I could've cried. Marshall Weathers wasn't going to a call-out. He was keeping a date with Tracy. Dressing up like a commando was probably just his way of distracting me, giving me a good excuse for why he had to leave. After all, he couldn't have known his afternoon would turn out like it had.
Now, wait a minute, girl, maybe she's on the team and they're responding together, I thought. But just as quickly, I tossed the idea aside. A green rookie on a SWAT team? I couldn't see it. No, she was meeting him and they were taking her van somewhere. Probably to a drive-in movie, that looked like his speed. Yep, he'd be out on a date with Tracy, the girl voted most unlikely to fall asleep when he touched her.
"I don't believe this," I muttered to myself. "What is it with me? Do I have a sign over my head that says sucker?" Mama used to talk about women like me, women who attracted all the wrong men. She'd say we had "bad picker" genes. But I'd thought Marshall was different.
I sat back down on the bed and pulled on my still-damp jeans, looking around the empty room. I thought he would be the one, the final one to break through every other bad experience I'd ever had. Instead, I'd overlooked my family and put my heart out on the line with disastrous results. Just like I'd done with Vernell, and Digger Bailey before him.
My sweater was a total loss. Instead I took the white dress shirt he'd worn and left lying on the bathroom floor along with the rest of his clothes. It smelled like him, like leather and his cologne. I had no one to blame but myself. Marshall Weathers was hurt and running like hell. He'd as much as told me so, and I'd ignored it. I'd seen right past the shield, right on down into his heart, and I knew he needed someone like me. Too bad he didn't know that. Too bad he thought he needed a hotcake like Tracy.
"Nothin' for it, girl," I said aloud. "Get on with your life." No sense to throw good love after bad. That's when I remembered Vernell. Here I was moping around and Vernell could be in danger or worse. I shook myself, walked down the steps, out of Marshall's house and across the backyard to my car.
I did turn around once and looked out over his valley. A light twinkled from the window of another farmhouse and I imagined a woman moving around her kitchen, putting the dinner dishes away and preparing for another day with her family. For some reason, that only made the sadness in my heart that much more unbearable.
"Kick it, girl!" I said to myself. "Kick that mood right on out of your heart."
I slid into the car. The seat squished. Cold water seeped through my pants, chilling my legs and reminding me how I'd come to be in this mess in the first place. I cranked the engine, pulled on the headlights, and started off down the drive. I tried to focus on Vernell. By the time I reached Summit Avenue, I'd succeeded, mostly.
I rolled into King's Gas and Go, but it was closed. The office was dark, with only the sparkle of Bess King's trophies to add any luster to the flat windows. There wouldn't be any talking to her tonight. I sighed and drove on home. But as I turned into my back alley and pulled up in the backyard, I could see that things weren't right. Every light in my house was on.
The house was so well lit that I almost missed the two figures sitting on the back steps, but my headlights trapped them for one brief moment before I shut off the car. Tony Carlucci and Sheila were sitting on the back steps, side by side.
/> I jumped out of the car, crossed the yard, and stood right in front of them, a tiny thrill of fear leaping across my skin as I saw my baby sitting with Carlucci.
"Are you okay, baby?" I asked Sheila, not wanting to alarm her with my concern.
"Totally," she answered, her face unreadable. "But like, what the hell happened to you?"
Carlucci was laughing, a gut laugh that lit up his face and eyes. His eyes roved the length of my body, taking in the wet jeans, the rumpled man's shirt, and my disheveled hair.
"It's a long story, honey. My sunroof broke."
Sheila's eyebrow rose. She looked up at the starlit sky and back down at me. "It didn't rain, Mama. What really happened?"
I sighed and put a hand on my hip. "It really is a long story," I said.
Sheila and Tony looked at each other and smirked. Somehow, the man who had been her mortal enemy this morning was now sharing a joke with my daughter.
"We got time," Tony said.
"Shut up."
"Mama!" Sheila said. "That's not nice."
How had the tables turned? What in the world was going on between these two?
"We were just worried about you, that's all," Sheila said, hurt creeping into her voice.
"All right, all right! If you must know, I took the car through a car wash and the roof got stuck open."
Tony snickered as Sheila's eyes widened. "What did you do?" she asked.
"Well, there wasn't much I could do. So, that's why I look a little worse for the wear."
From inside the house, the phone started ringing. Sheila jumped up like a dog wearing an invisible leash and ran to answer it. Saved by the bell, I thought, but not quite. Tony Carlucci sat on the steps grinning.
"Nice save," he said. "Now what really happened?"
I glared at him. "What're you doing at my house talking to my daughter?"
"Somebody had to bring her home from work, especially with her Mama out gallivanting."
I took a step closer. "What?"
Tony leaned back and rested his elbows on the top step. He was enjoying every moment of this.
"Well, she called here looking for a ride home. They let her go early. I figured, since you weren't around, I'd better go get her."
"What were you doing in my house?" I shrieked.
"Waiting," he said calmly.
"It's my house! You can't just waltz inside anytime you want and answer my phone and eat my food. What's with you?"
Tony Carlucci just stared at me, his features darkening momentarily, then returning to their nonchalant mask. Something in that darkness terrified me, a streak of cruelty that might break loose and surface at any second, something perhaps not even within his control.
"I didn't answer your phone," he said. "I listened to your messages." He leaned forward and stared at me, his eyes hooded and dark, the raw anger returning. "I took care of your daughter because if I didn't, somebody else might. When are you going to get it? The other guys looking for Vernell are going to kill him. They're getting desperate now. They don't care how they get to him." He leaned back, his face completely cold and impassive. "They'd cut your daughter's heart out and show it to him, just to get what they want. So yeah, while you were out fooling around with the owner of that oversized shirt, I was watching your back."
"You don't need to watch my back, or Sheila's. I can take care of her. You've got no right to push your way into our lives. This is my home and you don't belong here. The next time I find you within a hundred yards of my property, I'll call the cops."
Tony shook his head like I was a slow learner. "I see how much the cops have done for you so far. Honey, Greensboro's a small town. Your police haven't seen anything like what's headed your way if Vernell don't turn up."
I didn't know what to say, and fortunately I didn't have to say anything. Sheila walked back out onto the deck, the cordless phone in her hand, a stricken, colorless look replacing the carefree manner of a few moments before.
"Mama," she said, her voice small and childlike. "Somebody wants to kill Daddy."
I reached her as the sobs started, taking her into my arms. "What happened, baby?" I asked. Sheila was shaking.
"Somebody… somebody just said if Daddy didn't get the money back, people were gonna keep dying." Sheila pushed away from my shoulder and looked at me. "What did he mean, Mama? What's going on?"
Tony was standing up, his massive frame becoming a shield between us and the outside.
"Maggie, let's go inside. And for heaven's sake, turn off some of those damn lights and pull the curtains."
I didn't see the gun in his hand until we were in the house. He shoved it back into the back of his waistband, keeping it hidden by his black leather jacket. We both moved around the house, turning out some of the lights, pulling curtains and lowering blinds. The trouble with my house is, it's filled with windows-good for sunlight and good for target shooting, if you're the shooter, that is.
Tony led us into the narrow, windowless hallway between the kitchen and the dining room and prepared to hold council. Sheila was still crying, but softer now. She trembled as if she were cold, but I knew she was terrified. I was shaking for the same reason.
"All right," he said. "I'm gonna shoot straight with you, kid. Your dad's in a lot of trouble. Along about the time he disappeared, a lot of money vanished. Unfortunately, the man loaning your dad the cash is dead and your dad's the missing link. So people are looking for your pa, and as you just heard, they're not nice guys." Tony stopped and looked at Sheila, checking to see that she followed what he was saying.
Sheila looked up at him and nodded softly.
"I'm trying like hell to find him before they do," Tony said. "But I can't do that if I have two jobs to worry about."
Sheila looked puzzled. "What two jobs?" she asked.
Tony smiled gently, and for a moment all the menace was lost from his face. "I can't watch after you and find him. I'm going to have to ask you to help me out."
Sheila could only nod.
Tony looked at me. "Is there a safe place where you can go?" he asked.
I thought about Jack's and discarded it instantly. If Marshall Weathers could find me there, so could they. There was only one place for Sheila, back home with her Aunt Darlene and Uncle Earl. No one would find her there, and if they did, they'd sure be sorry. I thought of Earl's shotgun and his passel of guard dogs and smiled.
"Sure," I said, "I've got a place." But I wasn't stupid or foolish enough to tell him about it. Sure, he seemed like he only had our interests at heart, but I'd seen his eyes. And Tony was getting paid by someone to find Vernell. Until I knew more about that, I wouldn't trust Tony Carlucci with any information.
"I'm not going anywhere," Sheila said suddenly. "I'm gonna stay here and look for my dad."
"Sheila, there's nothing you can do. It's too dangerous." I'd figure out what to tell her about why I was coming back later. For now, I only needed to get her away from here.
"Sheila," Tony said, "I need you to help me by staying away." He was looking into her eyes, his hand resting on her shoulder. "If I'm not worried about you, I can work faster to find your dad. Besides," he added, "the quicker I find your dad, the quicker you and I can go back out cruising on my bike."
Sheila smiled.
"What? You took her on your motorcycle?"
Sheila and Carlucci both smiled at me indulgently. "Like, of course, Mama," Sheila said. "How else would I have gotten home? I mean, you did send him to get me, right?"
Behind her Tony smiled and shrugged his shoulders, as if saying "What else could I tell her?"
I sighed. They had me. "Well, that was just this once," I said. "I don't think you'll be riding on that thing anymore."
"Right," Sheila said, like she totally intended to follow my directions.
"Pack," I said. "You'll have to do it without turning on any lights. So do it fast and don't bring the entire universe with you."
"Where are we going?" she asked.
&nb
sp; "Sheila, what does it matter? You'll be missing school and on vacation. I'll tell you all about it later."
Tony Carlucci wasn't fooled. He waited until she stalked off to her room before he started up again.
"You're staying there with her," he said.
"No I'm not." I tried to brush past him, but he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, forcing me back against the wall.
"Let go of me," I said.
"Not until you listen," he said, his voice barely audible above the sound of Sheila's CD player. "You are worthless in this situation. This is what I do for a living. I find people. Just stay out of everybody's hair and let me do my job."
His fingers bit into my flesh, and when I glared back at him I was frightened by the intensity of the anger I saw there.
"All right, fine," I said. Let him think whatever he wanted. I just wanted to get away from him. Anybody can charm a schoolgirl, I thought, but it takes more than a cheap smile to put one over on Maggie Reid. I was coming back to town just as soon as I dropped Sheila off with her Aunt Darlene and Uncle Earl.
Carlucci could look for people all day long, but he didn't know Vernell like I did. I'd see the signs or read the clues far better than he or Weathers could do, and I cared far more about my ex-husband than outsiders ever could. I was coming back, all right, and Carlucci could just deal with it. That is, if he saw me before I saw him.
Chapter Thirteen
Sheila made the trip to Danville a living hell. She didn't want to ride in my car. She didn't want to leave without her CD player. She didn't think the towels I piled on the seats would keep her designer jeans dry. She complained about the smell, the drive, not having a cell phone like all her friends had, and not even owning a pager.
"Mama," she said, "if only I had a phone or a pager, then Daddy could've called me and told me where he was going."
So that was what was at the bottom of all this. "If onlys" were attacking Sheila. If only she'd been available; if only she'd stayed closer to home; if only she'd been the perfect child, her daddy wouldn't have left. I shook my head. I'd seen this same behavior when Vernell had left us for Jolene, the lovely Dish Girl.
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