by Cox, Suzanne
“Good to see you, Em,” he shouted.
She nodded as Jackson dumped diving gear onto the bottom of the boat. He didn’t speak, only pulled her close and held on tightly. It reminded her of that first time he’d held her like this in the back of the sheriff’s car, right after she’d found the body. At the time, she’d decided he would be trouble. She had been right, but it was a wonderful kind of trouble. Soon it would be over and he’d be gone.
She burrowed closer to his chest and felt his lips against her forehead. If she could say anything to make him stay in Cypress Landing she would, but she couldn’t imagine the exact words it would take. His predictions had come true, which would only solidify his belief that he would bring danger to those he loved. If only she could explain that it was her job that had put her in this position and not him, but she knew he’d never listen. He had a job in Chicago that he obviously missed. A job he was good at. Being the investigator in Cypress Landing certainly couldn’t compare to what he’d be doing in the FBI. What had happened today with this case would be an everyday occurrence there. His jaw was tense under her palm when she put her hand against it. He turned his head to kiss her hand, then clasped it between both of his. Eyes closed tightly, she held on to him as the boat bumped along toward the lights of Cypress Landing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EMALEA ROLLED OVER in the bed groaning. Aching in every part of her body, she squinted at the morning sun streaming through the window. Pink flowered wallpaper made her smile in spite of the nightmarish events of yesterday and last night. Her aunt had insisted on a girlie room when a young Emalea would have rather had motorcycles and animals. As she’d gotten older, she’d learned to appreciate her aunt’s cultivating of her more feminine side. Right now that feminine side and every other side throbbed with pain.
The entire trip on the boat and then the ride in the car to her aunt and uncle’s home had taken place without one word between Jackson and herself. He’d cupped her face in his hands and kissed her briefly before getting in the car with Matt to help deal with the arrests they’d made.
Aunt Alice had wanted to take her to the hospital for the ugly cuts on her arms and the bruise on her face, but she’d refused and had cleaned them well when she’d bathed. She’d crawled between the sheets not allowing herself to consider what could have happened to her. She’d made it out alive. She had to be thankful for that no matter what happened next.
Wiping her eyes, she rolled to her side. She was alive, but others hadn’t been so lucky. In the end, she hadn’t been able to save Kent or his mom. She buried her face in the soft pillow, her tears soaking the cloth, the fresh scent of fabric softener filling her nose. She had failed them, just like she’d failed her own mother. The confidence she’d felt climbing those broken-down steps had been a mistake. No class, no education could teach her how to save someone else. Now she realized how helpless Jackson must have felt after what had happened to his family. At least this time he’d been wrong. She had survived and she would continue to because she had learned the skills at an early age—but what good did that do those she wanted to help? Her shoulders drooped from the weight of her failure as she dug deeper into the mattress.
With slow movements, Emalea left the bed and pulled on the ragged clothes that her aunt had laundered. Later, when she got home, they’d go straight in the garbage. For now she made her way along the side street to the restaurant.
Inside, breakfast was booming as usual. Everything was so normal. She could almost forget that people had died yesterday. There was a difference, though, inside her, where everything that could remotely be called normal had gone into hiding. The people of Cypress Landing weren’t going to let her forget yesterday. It seemed to be the topic of everyone’s conversation. At least six questions were hurled at her before she got past the first two tables. Managing to escape by shaking her head, she slipped into the kitchen where her aunt and uncle were busy putting together orders.
“Your help out sick again?”
Her aunt waved a spatula at her. “Yes, but you don’t need to be in here. You should have stayed in bed.”
“I prefer to keep busy, it helps me to keep from thinking too much.”
Her aunt nodded then tossed her an apron. “Better that you work in here. You’ll get nothin’ but the nosies there.” She bobbed her head toward the dining area.
Emalea didn’t want to discuss what had happened to Kent and his family. People had died. It was just too much. Tying on the apron, she stepped in front of the hot stove, pushing pans aside to make the next order.
An hour later, she found a moment to take a break and fixed herself a cup of coffee while glancing through the opening between the kitchen and dining area. Matt sat at the bar finishing his breakfast. She stepped in front of him, placing her cup on the counter. A wet spot on the smooth surface caught her attention and she wiped it with a napkin.
“You’re looking much better this morning.” He tapped his own cheek. “Got a bit of bruise right there, but you’ll be fine.”
She gripped the napkin in her fist. “I wish I could say the same for the Raynor family.” Her throat knotted as she thought of Kent and what his future might have held, if he’d only had half a chance.
“Yeah, it’s a shame. They’ll have an adjustment, but in the end I think Mr. Raynor wasn’t much of a husband or a father.”
“No, he wasn’t. Have you talked to the family about what happened yesterday? I was wondering if…well, if arrangements had been made.”
Matt looked at her skeptically. “You aren’t going to the service, are you? I mean you didn’t really know the man and he almost got you killed.”
“It’s not Earl Raynor that I’d be going for. But Kent and his mother deserve my respect, for all they lived through.”
He tilted his head to one side watching her, then shrugged. “I don’t know Mrs. Raynor’s family. I haven’t seen either one of them since the boy told us where to find you and I had to tell them Mr. Raynor had been killed.”
Emalea’s cup thudded against the counter, coffee sloshing over the sides. “What are you talking about?”
Matt leaned back. “You didn’t know the boy was the one feeding us information the whole time? It was through a relative but that was how we knew there would be a meeting at Raynor’s place.”
She shook her head. “I knew Kent was helping you, but I thought that Raynor had killed his wife and son. That’s what DePaulo told me.”
Matt brushed at the powdered sugar left on his mouth. “Nope, the boy and his mother are fine. I’m sure they’re still feeling the loss, no matter what kind of man Earl Raynor was, but physically they were only banged up. They’ll need help getting their lives together. You all right, Em?”
Her knees shook and she bent forward resting her head on the edge of the counter. For a minute she couldn’t respond. Straightening and rubbing her forehead, she sniffed then wiped at her eyes with the damp napkin. “I’m just so relieved. I’ve been thinking all this time they’d been killed. I need to go to the house and see them.”
“Are you sure? That could bring back a few ugly memories.”
She threw the napkin in the garbage. “I’m sure. I went there to try and protect them and I was the one who got in the most trouble. Either way, they need help and I want to do whatever I can.”
“They’ll be glad to see you I’m sure. They were really worried about what would happen to you. I hear from Jackson you handled yourself like a pro.”
She shoved her hair away from her face, not really interested in recalling the events of last night. “I doubt I was very professional. That was sheer terror and desperation on my part.”
Matt took a drink of his coffee. “Jackson seems to think he would have been in trouble if you hadn’t been, as he put it, ‘about to get away all by herself.’”
She shrugged. “As far as I knew, no one was coming to help me. That guy said they were going to use me as bait to lure Jackson into a setup so he’d
be killed, too, I imagine. I figured I was the only one to get myself out of there.”
Matt wadded up his napkin. “I better get to the station. We’ve still got a load of paperwork.” He slid off the stool. “You seen Jackson this morning?”
She shrugged. “I imagine he’s busy.”
“He’ll be by later. I think he’s leaving for Chicago with his friends from the FBI this evening.”
“That’s what I heard.”
The sheriff stood for a moment longer, as if he might say something more. Instead, he pushed open the door and left. What else was there to say? She hadn’t planned on falling for Jackson and now those in town who knew how she felt would be feeling sorry for her. She didn’t need sympathy or pity. At least she’d put an end to the distrust she’d felt in herself. She’d finally learned she wasn’t always attracted to men like her father. Sure, Jackson had shown unrestrained anger, but she had to admit that in his place she would have done the same. He’d shown her nothing but gentleness. She might have to suffer the pain of losing Jackson, but along the way she’d managed to salvage a piece of herself she hadn’t even known was missing. That had to be a good thing.
The coffee in her cup was cold. She had lost interest in it anyway. She dumped it in the nearest sink, putting the cup in with the rest of the dirty dishes.
“I’m going to the Raynors’.”
Aunt Alice stopped in the middle of cracking an egg, the white leaking onto the countertop. “What in the world you wanna go and do that for?”
“I need to check on Kent and his mother.” She paused, glancing around the kitchen. “I should take some food with me.”
Her aunt helped her load a box with containers of rolls, a casserole from the freezer and meats and cheeses for sandwiches.
Halfway to the door, Emalea stopped. “I don’t have my truck. Matt brought me home last night and my truck’s still at the Raynors’.”
Her aunt smiled. “Your truck’s at the garage. Jackson got your uncle’s spare key and had a deputy bring it by.”
She wanted to tell her aunt all the kind deeds in the world weren’t going to change the fact that Jackson would be living in Chicago again before the month was finished. At the moment, she just didn’t have the heart to broach the subject. Her aunt would be disappointed and Emalea would be a lot more than that.
JACKSON PUSHED PAPERS aside on his desk as Matt eased into the chair across from him. “It seems your man, DePaulo, will be locked up for good.”
“I’m glad, even though it’s taken some time to catch him. And his uncle won’t get him off this time. Not after DePaulo was going behind his back selling guns to the militia and pocketing the money himself.”
Matt nodded and sat watching him for a moment before he spoke. “Rick tells me he’s trying to convince you to come to Chicago. He says the agency has offered you a probationary period at your old position.”
“Yep, he’s been persistent.”
“He doesn’t seem to think he’s convinced you yet, says he’s hoping when you go with them for a few days you won’t be able to leave.”
Jackson leaned back in his chair, trying not to smile at Matt so obviously fishing for information.
“You’re my boss. Don’t you think I’d have told you if I planned on leaving?”
Matt shrugged.
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
“I think you’ll do whatever makes you happy,” Matt said.
Jackson laughed, tossing his pen onto the desktop. “Then I’m sure you know I won’t be staying in Chicago. Cypress Landing is home for me now.”
Looking a little relieved, Matt grinned. “Found something about this place you like, huh?”
Jackson rubbed his chin. “You could say that.”
Matt leaned forward and picked up a small crystal paperweight from Jackson’s desk, tapping it lightly against the scarred wood. “I’m glad. I’d hate to see you leave, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only one.”
Jackson sighed. Matt didn’t have a clue how complicated things were with Emalea. “I might have to work on that, but I’m going to be here and I’ll give her all the time she needs.”
“My wife always tells me I give bad romantic advice. In your case I sure did. Thank goodness you didn’t listen to me when I told you to stay away from Emalea.” Matt dropped the paperweight on the desk and Jackson could only shake his head.
“Part of me thought you were right. This thing with Emalea just seemed to have a life of its own.”
“The best things always do.” Matt got to his feet. “You think you’ll see her before you go to Chicago?”
He rested his elbows on his desk. He wasn’t sure if he could face Emalea, not yet. “I don’t know. We’re leaving in a few hours.”
“Just don’t go to Chicago and change your mind,” Matt shouted on his way down the hall.
“It’s not my mind that would have to be changed,” Jackson whispered.
LOOKING AT THE RUTTED gravel drive and battered house brought a weird sensation to Emalea’s stomach. Mr. Raynor’s truck shimmered in the mid-morning heat and she tried to remember if it had been sitting exactly like that when she’d been here before. She parked and got out of the truck, leaving the food on the seat for the moment.
Hinges squealed on the front door as it swung open before she could get to the steps. Kent let the door bang shut behind him. He appeared unharmed except for the bruises he’d had yesterday and relief rushed through her. Like an animal, unsure of its welcome, he hesitated at the top of the steps. He shivered as if a cold wind had hit him. Emalea opened her mouth to speak, but the words she wanted to say stopped in her throat. It didn’t really matter. Nothing she could say would touch what he was feeling now. If it had been her father who had died all those years ago instead of her mother, what would she have felt the next day? What would her life have been like? Kent and his mother would have to start a new life, a whole new way of thinking. Would he let her be a part of that? He still teetered on the edge of the sagging porch.
A whoosh of air escaped from his mouth that became a whine at the very end, then he lunged, completely missing the steps and nearly knocked her off her feet when he threw his arms around her with an abandon and desperation he would have said he’d outgrown. She closed her eyes tightly but a tear leaked out as she hugged him close.
“I’m so sorry, Kent, about your dad, about everything.”
Against her shoulder, his head moved from side to side, his words muffled. “It wasn’t your fault, none of it. My fault, it was all my fault that you got in the middle. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have come here yesterday.”
“Who’s to say my being here didn’t keep you or your mother from being hurt?” She remembered DePaulo’s words that Earl Raynor had been going to kill his wife and son. “It’s all over now and you and your mom will be fine.”
He stepped away from her, his head bowed. “Maybe. My mom is… Well, this is the only life she knows. What if she meets a man and gets in this same mess?”
She caught Kent’s hand in hers. “Then we’ll just have to show her another way.”
“Do you think we can? Do you think she can learn to be different?”
“The important question is do you believe it? If you can make that new life for yourself then maybe we can help your mom do it, too.”
Kent straightened his shoulders. “You changed your life, Ms. LeBlanc, so can I. I know they say kids who get beat up learn to beat their own kids later. I read an article in a magazine once.” He raked his unruly hair away from his forehead. “But I don’t feel that way inside. I don’t feel like hurting people when I get mad. I just get mad, then it’s over.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “You know what, Kent? I don’t think you need to change at all.”
An engine groaned from the direction of the highway and a battered truck lumbered into view. Emalea squinted, trying to identify the unexpected visitor.
“Mic
k!” Kent broke away from her hand, loping toward the slowing vehicle.
“How do you know Mick?”
“He was my dad’s cousin.”
Another bout of anxiety threatened her. She’d known Mick for years but she hadn’t known he was related to Earl Raynor. Would he hold her in some way culpable for his cousin’s death? That she knew of, Mick had never participated in the militia, but maybe she was wrong. She watched as he hugged the boy then headed in her direction.
“Doc.” He pulled her into a smothering bear hug. She wasn’t sure why, but he obviously harbored no vengeance where his cousin was concerned. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for Kent. Earl never let me have much contact with his family because I’d never joined the militia and he didn’t want me leadin’ Kent here down the wrong path. As if joining that damn group of his was the right path. All that’s gonna change now.” He grasped Kent’s neck and gave him a gentle shake.
“You know Kent’s the one you gotta thank for the sheriff finding you last night, Doc. If it weren’t for him, the sheriff wouldn’t have even known what was going on here.”
Confused, Emalea studied the big man and the bony kid. “I’m lost, Mick. I mean, Kent told me he had the phone last night, but how do you know?”
Kent scuffed the toe of his worn sneaker in the dirt and Mick smiled at him, then at Emalea.
“Kent called me at the bar a few weeks ago from school. Wanted me to meet him that afternoon. I couldn’t recall him ever bein’ allowed to call me before, so I kept it quiet and met him outside of school. That’s when he got to tellin’ me all the mess my cousin was into. He was afraid to tell you ’cause he didn’t want you to get in it and get hurt.” He winked at her. “But I guess you did that anyway. I went that afternoon and bought a cell phone for him to hide and use when he needed it. After that, he called me with all sorts of information and I kinda passed it right along to that investigator, Jackson.”
“So the two of you were helping the sheriff.”
