Hearts on the Line

by Margaret Daley

  “Last night I watched the toll that situation demanded of you, Becca. You don’t know how many times I wanted to snatch you away and yet you were magnificent hour after hour.”

  She whirled around in the middle of the chaos that was her kitchen. “I lost her!”

  “But you gave one hundred percent. You cared. That’s all you could do.”

  “Yes, I cared about Shelly Roberts. I’ve seen it too many times in my job—the marriages that break apart because one of the partners is unfaithful. Most, thankfully, don’t resort to what Shelly did, but the devastation is just as strong. She could have gotten help to work through her problems. Suicide wasn’t the answer.” Becca filled her teakettle and put it on the stove to heat. “Do you want any?”

  “No. Becca, you didn’t answer me. Why do you do it?”

  After placing a tea bag in a mug, she faced him, pressed against the front of the stove as if she wanted to crawl into the oven and hide. “You know my dad died in a hostage situation. My whole family fell apart after that. I can’t let that happen to another family if I can do anything about it. I promised myself that years ago. That’s why I went to college. I wanted to be a counselor and try to help people before they got to the end of their rope. The man who killed my father was a bank employee who’d lost his job and didn’t see any hope for himself and his family. He flipped out and went crazy, taking several people with him that day.”

  The shrill sound of the kettle knifed through the tension-laden quiet. Becca turned away from Quinn and prepared her tea, cupping the mug in her cold hands to warm them. Tentatively she took a sip.

  “If someone had been there to help that man, my father would be alive today,” she said, making her way to the table. Her body trembling with fatigue, she sank down onto the chair, still holding her tea.

  “I don’t want you to break under this burden you’ve place on yourself. Let God help you.” Quinn came to sit next to her. “With Him by your side, you won’t be alone when you face a person in crisis.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Yes, it is. Let Him into your heart and you’ll see. Psalm 46 states it best. God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”

  “Why didn’t He help me when I was in need years ago? When my parents died?”

  “Maybe He did. He made you strong to weather the pain and do what you needed for your siblings.”

  Becca shook her head, not sure of that. Yes, she was a strong person most days now. But ten years ago she had floundered and fumbled, making so many mistakes in raising her siblings. She took another long sip, the liquid lukewarm, doing nothing to take the chill away. It burrowed into the marrow of her bones and she couldn’t get warm.

  Finally, hugging her arms to herself, she murmured, “I don’t feel very strong right now.”

  “I don’t know too many people who would after what you went through. You aren’t a machine who can turn off your emotions when you want.”

  “I need to be. Then this wouldn’t bother me so much. I’m not gonna last on the hostage negotiation team at this rate.” That was another reason why finishing her degree was important. When she could no longer do an effective job as a negotiator, then she would become a counselor as she had dreamed years ago. She would help people in need one way or another.

  “Are you always this busy? Two situations in that many weeks?”

  “No, not usually. Hopefully this incident today will be the last for a long time.” But with Escalante running around, who knew, she thought. The man had been responsible for so many deaths and tragedies.

  Quinn seized her gaze and held it. “Will you be okay?”

  “I’ve got to be. I’m due in to work in a few hours.”

  “Call in sick.”

  “No! We’re checking on the places in Cripple Creek. We have someone watching each one, but we want to find out more from the people in the area. When we make our move, we don’t want anything to go wrong. We need to catch Escalante, not give him a chance to get away again.”

  He covered her hand on the table. “You don’t have to do it all. Let Sam do it.”

  “We’re a team. This is too important.” She couldn’t get it out of her mind that Quinn wasn’t safe until Escalante was behind bars. She remembered the slashed tires, a warning he was easy to get to whenever Escalante wanted to.

  Quinn scooted back his chair and rose. “Then I’m leaving. Go rest. Sleep if you can.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I’ll be back to work later this morning. I’ll let myself out.”

  She listened to the back door click shut. The sudden silence of the house mocked her. Yeah, kiss me and then leave. That’ll help me get some sleep now. Exhausted but wide awake, she fixed herself another cup of tea, this one with caffeine, and sat again at the kitchen table.

  Lord, if You’re listening, please watch out for Quinn. Help me to find Escalante so Quinn doesn’t have to look over his shoulder everywhere he goes. Then maybe if I’m not worried about him so much, I can figure out what’s going on between us.

  After work that evening, Becca felt strange letting herself into Quinn’s house. She pocketed his key and headed into his kitchen. Pausing just inside the entrance, she surveyed the neat, orderly room and pictured how hers would look like this soon. Quinn was at her house right now installing her new cabinets.

  She crossed to the counter by the refrigerator and placed the sack of groceries on it. She couldn’t believe she had actually asked Quinn’s mother for a key to his house so she could surprise him with a home-cooked dinner, several days earlier than the Saturday date they had, as a way to thank him for his support after the hostage situation. Fiona had only been too happy to supply the key and a few suggestions on what Quinn liked to eat. She didn’t want totally to shock him when he came home because of Escalante’s threat, so she had left a note taped to his truck window, telling him she was waiting for him at his house with dinner.

  Becca switched on a radio sitting on the counter to a classical station and set about preparing the meal, a pot roast with carrots, potatoes and onions. She also decided to fix a tossed green salad and homemade biscuits. No dessert. The meal was already high calorie, but one of Quinn’s favorites.

  She finished with the salad and had the biscuits ready to go in at the last minute when her cell phone jingled “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” Checking her caller ID, she frowned. Unknown caller. She clicked it on.

  “Hello, Becca.”

  Her frown deepened. “Who is this?” She was good at recognizing people’s voices and this was a stranger, she was sure.

  “A friend of the Vances’ and Montgomerys’.” She could detect a slight accent—a Latino.

  She froze, clutching the phone so hard her hand ached. “Why are you calling, Escalante?”

  “Just to let you know that Quinn is on his way home. He looked very happy to get your note.”

  The thudding of her heart thundered in her ears, almost drowning out Escalante’s next words.

  “You won’t stop me. I will win.”

  Click.

  Becca held the cell to her ear for a good minute after Escalante hung up. The menace in the man’s voice scared her. He was a killer who wanted Quinn dead. She collapsed back against the counter, gripping its edge to keep herself upright.

  What if the properties they were staking out weren’t where Escalante was staying? Obviously he was somewhere close right now or he wouldn’t know about Quinn coming home. She had put her gun in her purse, but decided to strap it back on. After securing it to her waist, she felt better.

  She flipped open her cell and called Sam before Quinn arrived. “Escalante just called me. He was watching Quinn at my house, so he’s in town right now.”

  “I’ll send some officers over to your street and check it out, but I’m sure he’s long gone by now.”

  “I agree, but he threatened Quinn. In fact, he threatened both families. Let’s hope one of my neighbors saw something.”<
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  “Are you gonna tell Quinn?”

  “Yes. He needs to know, but it won’t be a surprise. The slashed tires put him on alert.”

  “Becca, we’ll get the man. I’ll let you know if the officers find out anything.”

  Sam’s words didn’t comfort her because she heard his worried tone. “Nothing from the people watching the properties?”

  “You’ll be the first to know, I promise. Enjoy your dinner. After last night you deserve a little rest and relaxation.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  Becca released a long sigh as she slid her cell phone into her pocket. “At least I can protect Quinn if Escalante decides to do anything tonight,” she murmured to the silent room.

  The slamming of a vehicle’s door announced Quinn’s arrival. She scanned the kitchen, checking to make sure everything was ready. The roast and vegetables were in the oven, their aroma lacing the air with titillating smells. When the back door opened, she pasted a smile on her face and turned toward him.

  “After the past twenty-four hours I can’t think of anything better to come home to than you cooking dinner for me.” Quinn crossed the room and drew her into his arms, kissing her soundly before placing her away from him. He inhaled deeply. “Hmm. If I hadn’t been starving, I am now. It smells delicious.”

  “One of your favorites.”

  He breathed in another lungful. “Ah, pot roast. How did you know?”

  “Your mother. I went to see her today.”

  “You are indeed a brave woman. Let me wash up and I’ll help you.”

  “No, this is my treat. If my kitchen wasn’t all torn up, I’d have cooked this at my house.”

  Quinn stepped to the sink and lathered up his hands, then rinsed them. “So what should I do?”

  She gestured toward his already-set table. “Have a seat. Keep me entertained while I finish up.”

  He folded his long length into a chair. “With everything that’s been happening I forgot to mention that you and I need to go to the tile store. I want you to pick out what you want for a countertop to go with the wallpaper you selected a few days ago. How about first thing tomorrow morning?”

  Becca thought of all that needed to be done at work, but Quinn had insisted she have some input into her kitchen. He had told her he didn’t do carte blanche. “Is eight too early?”

  “Nope. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together.” He rolled his shoulders and stretched. “When’s dinner?”

  “Twenty minutes. I have to put the biscuits into the oven. Why, other than the fact that you’re starved?”

  “I thought I would show you my workshop out back if we had the time.”

  Hot air blasted her face when she opened the oven and stuck the pan of biscuits inside. “Give me a few minutes.” She mixed up some spices and sugar with oil and vinegar, then put the bottle into the refrigerator.

  “I’m getting the full treatment. You even made salad dressing. I’m impressed.”

  She spun around, saying, “Nothing but the best for you. I really appreciated your support this morning. I know I need to protect myself from getting too emotionally involved, but for some reason Shelly got to me.”

  “Are you okay now?” Quinn pinned her with a probing look as he rose from the chair.

  “No, but I’m getting there. I listened to part of the tapes today and couldn’t see what else I could have done to change the situation.”

  “Sometimes there’s nothing we can do.”

  “It’s in God’s hands?”

  “Yes.” He held out his hand to her. “C’mon. I want to show you my favorite place here.”

  “A man and his tools and cars.”

  “At least tools don’t cost as much as cars.”

  Quinn went outside and crossed his yard to a building along the back of his property. When Becca entered his workshop, the scent of sawdust, oil and turpentine wafted in the air. Some tools hung along one wall while a big chest with narrow drawers housed the smaller items. Several workbenches, one with a jigsaw, ran down the middle of the building. Off to one side was a half-finished table that could seat six comfortably.

  She walked to it and ran her hand along its smooth surface. “Is this your latest project?”

  “Yes, but I’ve been working on it for over three months. I started it right before the fire at Montgomery Construction. I haven’t had much time to finish it.”

  Tingles flowed down the length of her back as he approached her from behind and put his hands at her waist. His breath fanned her neck and goose bumps rose on her arms.

  “I’d kiss you, but any lady armed with a gun gives me second thoughts.”

  She needed to tell him about the phone call, and his teasing remark was the perfect opening. She angled around so she faced him and suddenly realized her mistake. The table trapped her against him, and all she could think about was his charming smile that could melt a glacier and his nearness that would be her undoing.

  “Should I dare take the chance?” Mischief gleamed in his eyes.

  “You gonna let a little ol’ gun stand in your way,” she said with a mock Southern drawl.

  “Lady, that ain’t any little ol’ gun.”

  Tell him. But his lips were dangerously close, sending her heart rate sky-high. She locked her arms around his neck and boldly ended the taunting play between them by kissing him full on the mouth. After all, she was a take-charge kind of woman. At least that was what she was telling herself as she savored the feel of his lips moving over hers.

  When he pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, he touched her forehead with his, his grasp on her waist tightening. “This is a first.”

  She leaned back and peered up at him. “What?”

  “Kissing in my workshop. In fact, I don’t recall any other woman being in here.”

  She grinned, feeling so totally special and feminine in that moment. “I’m honored.” She needed to put a halt to this or she would be kissing him again. Glancing around him, she asked, “Who are you making that table for?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yours won’t fit your new kitchen.”

  Words failed her. She tried to put two of them together, but all she could think of was that he was personally making her a piece of furniture—a beautifully carved piece that would be in one of her favorite rooms in the house.

  “I want to match the finish to the new cabinets. Okay?”

  She nodded, still stunned by his gesture. She did things for others, not the reverse.

  “Good. Now let’s go eat.”

  “Eat!” She checked her watch and realized if she didn’t get into the kitchen fast the biscuits would be burned.

  She rushed from the workshop and hurried toward the back door. When she opened the oven to remove the food, she sighed. The biscuits were a little browner than she wished, but not anywhere near being charred.

  Having already set the table, she waved Quinn to it, then served the dinner. He ladled his plate with the pot roast, baked vegetables and two biscuits, slathered in butter.

  While scooping the salad onto the smaller plate next to his big one, he said, “I could get use to this.”

  “If I ate like this every day, I would be packing on the pounds.” Becca sprinkled some dressing over her greens. “I haven’t cooked like this in ages. Even when my siblings lived at home, I didn’t have this kind of time to spend cooking.”

  “Now I’m the one who is honored.”

  “My captain took one look at me when I dragged myself into work and told me to cut the day short. Sam agreed with him.”

  He caught her look. “You should be home sleeping.”

  “I’m a night owl. I can’t imagine going to bed before the sun goes down.”

  “I love working late into the night in my workshop.”

  Becca thought of the isolation of the building. She hadn’t remembered seeing any phone in it, either. “Do me a favor? Don’t work out there until Escalante is caugh
t.”

  A frown wrinkled his brow. “I’m not letting that man rule my life.”

  Tell him. “He called me on my cell this evening.”

  Quinn stared at Becca, sitting at his kitchen table, but all he saw was red—his company buildings going up in flames, the blood of Escalante’s victims. Quinn gripped the fork he had been bringing to his mouth tightly until the metal bit into his palm. Becca’s beautiful face came back into focus.

  “Why?” he finally managed to ask between gritted teeth.

  “To inform me he knows what you and I are doing this evening.”

  “How?”

  “Because he read the note I taped to your truck.”

  “He was at the house again!” Quinn bolted to his feet, his hands fisted.

  “He’s taunting me—the police—because we haven’t found him.”

  Quinn tightened his hands even more, his knuckles white. For a few seconds he welcomed the pain, centered his thoughts on it. He wanted to punch something—preferably Escalante’s face. Instead, he slowly uncurled his fists and turned from the table to pace the length of his kitchen. “Is that why you’re wearing your gun?”

  “Yes. I debated whether to tell you or not. But you have a right to know and to take the appropriate actions.”

  “And what are they?” His long strides chewed up the space between them. He hovered over her.

  “Watch your back. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Be careful where you go. Lock your doors—”

  “In other words, hide. Or, better yet, I could just leave town until you catch him.”

  She rose to meet his direct look. “That might not be such a bad idea.”

  “Well, I’m not gonna do that. Let him come after me.” Quinn knew the foolishness of that declaration—Escalante was a dangerous killer—but all he wanted to do was come face-to-face with the man and make him pay for all the misery he’d caused his family.

  “Oh, good! Why don’t you just pin a target on your chest?”

  He met her glare for glare. “If that’s what it takes, I would. This can’t continue.”

  Her stiff stance melted, and she sank onto her chair. “I shouldn’t have said anything until later. Escalante has managed to ruin this evening. There’s no stopping what that man can do even when he’s not around.”