Nowhere to Hide

by Terry Odell

  The tech snapped her gum and secured her kit. “All yours. Someone will call you if we need anything else.”

  As Colleen wiped the ink from her fingers, she surveyed the damage. Much as she hated to admit it, Harrigan had been right. She felt violated and unclean. She hurried to turn the deadbolt, made sure all the windows were closed, and tossed the paper towel in the kitchen trash can.

  Even if the odds said it was only Doris, there was still the possibility a stranger had been in her home. First thing in the morning, she’d call a locksmith. She pulled a spray bottle of cleanser from under the kitchen sink, yanked the roll of paper towels from its holder and started attacking the black fingerprint powder mess. Not good enough. She stormed into the bedroom, ripped the linens from the bed and threw them into the washing machine. Her skin crawled under her clothes and she stripped bare and tossed them on top of the sheets. She began to shiver uncontrollably and hurried to the bedroom.

  Cursing under her breath, she climbed into her most comfortable sweatpants and thick wool socks. She kicked the pile of Nordstrom bags into the closet, swore again and went to her drawer for an old sports bra and tank. The chills wouldn’t stop and she layered on her gray sweatshirt, the one with the holes in the elbows and the frayed ribbing around the neck. The one that hugged and comforted.

  She went to the kitchen, scrubbed out the sink and was filling a bucket to mop the floors when she heard a knock at the door.

  The hospital was keeping Doris overnight for observation. Tracy? She turned off the water, wiped her hands and went to the door. Not Tracy. Harrigan. What did he want?

  “Go away,” she shouted through the closed door. “I’m busy. I don’t need you here.”

  “Open the door and tell me that to my face and I will.” His voice was calm and soothing, soothing enough that things were starting to wobble inside her again.

  She unlocked the door and opened it far enough to poke her head out. “Go away. I’m in the middle of cleaning. I don’t—” She realized it was the first time she’d seen him out of uniform. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue-and-cream striped jersey, he looked so—so comforting. She met his eyes and fought the urge to bury her face in his chest. “Come in.” She stepped aside and went to her bucket. “But I am cleaning.”

  “I can see that. Anything I can do?”

  “You got any leads? Anyone talk to Doris?”

  “She was still confused, but she says it wasn’t her. They’re running prints, but it’ll take a while.”

  “In that case, stay out of my way.”

  Harrigan reached for the bucket. “Let me help.”

  His hand met hers. She jerked away, sloshing water onto his shoes. “I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. If you’re going to stay here, go sit on the couch.”

  His gaze lingered on hers, and she tensed. He backed away, then went and flopped onto the couch. “Okay if I watch TV?”

  “Be my guest.” She pulled the mop out of the bucket, squeezed out the excess water and started manhandling it across the kitchen floor. When she finished the kitchen, she moved into the bathroom and cleaned that floor too. And the counters and the mirrors. She dumped the pine-scented water into the toilet and scrubbed the bowl. Her socks were soaked, and she went to the bedroom for dry ones and laced on her sneakers. She took the mop and bucket to the closet in the kitchen. Harrigan seemed engrossed in flipping through the channels.

  “Tell me something, Harrigan,” she said. “If you lost the remote, would you be able to watch television?”

  He grinned at her. “What would be the point?”

  Her tension hadn’t eased despite the cleaning frenzy and she paced through the living room and kitchen, dusting, wiping and rearranging anything and everything. Harrigan turned off the television, came over and took her by the shoulders. She flinched, but held his gaze.

  “What do you need?” he asked.

  “Frankly, I think I need to pound the crap out of someone. You interested?”

  *****

  Five minutes later, they were in Graham’s Jeep. He glanced at Colleen often on the drive, but she kept her gaze fixed out the window. He wouldn’t press. Besides, he had no clue how to approach her. He leaned toward the glamorous side of beauty, more like Tracy, not Colleen’s casual prettiness. Under normal circumstances, he’d have made his moves, dropped his lines, and they’d be taking care of each other’s physical needs. A few more encounters, then they’d be saying goodbye and moving on. He shifted in his seat as thoughts of Colleen triggered those physical needs. Different somehow with her.

  He pulled into the shopping center and parked under a light. “We’re here.” He unsnapped his seatbelt. Colleen’s head jerked. He wondered if she’d dozed off, if he’d done the right thing.

  “Why are we at Kmart? Tracy totally shopped me out this afternoon.”

  “This way. Come on.” He circled the car and opened her door. She raised her eyebrows and swung her legs out of the car. Damn, he wished she’d smile. Once. Under the light, he saw the flash of recognition as she surveyed the buildings around the lot. And a tiny upturn of one corner of her mouth. That would do for now.

  The two of them walked into the gym. Manny, his long dark hair secured in a leather wrap, was on duty. He smiled as they approached the counter. “Hey, Cracker Man! Long time no see! What brings you to our place instead of your fancy cop gyms?” He raised his hand in greeting.

  Graham slapped Manny’s palm. “I still get over here and work with the kids and you know it.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same.” He gave Graham a questioning look.

  “Colleen McDonald, Manny Rodriguez. Manny and I go way back. We’re going to spar a little,” Graham said. “That all right?”

  “You know you can bring a guest in here any time, man. Nothing going on in Gym B right now, so have at it.”

  Graham put his hand to the small of Colleen’s back to guide her. She seemed to accept his touch, though for all he knew, she didn’t even feel it.

  “Cracker Man?” Understanding flashed across her face. “Graham Crackers.” Her snorting laughter was like music.

  “I started volunteering here almost six years ago. Couple of kids latched on to the name and it stuck.” He twirled her around. “But it doesn’t leave this building.”

  “Graham Cracker Man.” She shook her head and giggled all the way down the hall.

  In the gym, Graham pulled some mats from the stack on the wall and spread them in the center of the floor. He pulled his jersey over his head and readjusted his t-shirt. His pulse quickened as Colleen turned away and started to remove her sweatshirt. Underneath, she wore a navy blue tank top. He took in her firm upper arms and shoulders and wondered what she hid under her baggy sweats. Something very fine, he surmised.

  Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he knelt to remove his sneakers and socks, and Colleen did the same. He set his Glock on top of his sweatshirt. “You ready?” he asked after several minutes of stretching. The way she’d warmed up told him she was no stranger to exercise. That she hadn’t asked any questions made him wonder if she knew what he planned to do.

  “Say when.” She stood on the gym floor, arms hanging loosely at her sides.

  Stepping to the center of the mats, Graham motioned to her. “Come on. You said you needed to hit someone.”

  She approached him, arms in a guard position and they circled each other. He took in the smooth way she moved, the confidence in her eyes. She flashed him a huge grin and the next thing he knew, she’d swiveled around, thrust a hip into his gut and he was flat on his back, staring up at her.

  “Not fair.” He jumped to his feet. “You cheated.”

  “No way. I took you down fair and square.”

  “You smiled. I got distracted.” He brushed his hands against his jeans. “Won’t happen again. Two out of three?”

  They circled again. “How did you know I could spar?”

  “I didn’t. But I figured I’d let you pou
nd on me. Or we can go over to the bags you can punch away if you don’t want to keep sparring “

  “Afraid I’ll hurt you?”

  He grinned. “Try it.” He crooked his fingers in invitation. Nobody got by him twice.

  Colleen came at him with a right jab, but this time, he was ready. He blocked it, grabbed her wrist and stepped in with his left foot. His right forearm to her chest, his right leg sweeping behind to kick hers out from under. This time she was on the mat, with him kneeling beside her.

  “You got lucky,” she said, accepting his hand as he helped her to her feet. “I was letting you get complacent.”

  He got the next fall, but it took a lot longer. There was something comfortably familiar about the way she moved, not unlike sparring with his colleagues. She blocked most of his moves and got in a few clean hits of her own. They were both breathing harder now and his shirt stuck to his back. “That’s two out of three,” he panted. “Want to call it a night?”

  “Not on your life. I’m still warming up.”

  Fierce determination shone in her eyes, and he knew she was no longer thinking about anything except getting him to the floor. For a split second he thought about letting her get past him, but he knew faking a loss would be the end of anything remotely resembling a friendship. He took what she threw at him and gave her as much. In a sudden spurt, she managed to get through his guard. She stepped in close, grabbed his left sleeve and wrapped her right arm around his waist. She swiveled around, pulled him onto her back. A second later he was rolling over her hip and flat on his back again. She had one hand at his throat and was poised above him, her knee precariously close to doing serious damage. He didn’t dare move. Her green eyes sparkled, her face glistened with sweat, and he reveled in her satisfied smile.

  “This one’s mine, Harrigan,” she said, one hand on either side of his chest, straddling him.

  “No question about it.” She edged forward and he drew in a sharp breath. “But, given where you’ve got your knee, I think you should call me Graham.”

  *****

  Colleen glanced downward, away from Graham’s compelling blue eyes. Her knee was barely in contact, and she left it where it was for the time being. “Afraid?”

  “Just looking out for the next generation of Harrigans.”

  “I know the difference between sparring and fighting. Your future progeny have nothing to worry about.”

  He took her wrists and levered her away, and she stood. He raised himself to a sitting position. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  She was loose now, and she lowered herself to the mat next to Graham, tucked her knees to her chest. “ I took some Tae Kwon Do classes.”

  Graham frowned. “You have a lot more moves than they teach in martial arts classes.”

  “I’ve got three older brothers, remember?”

  “You don’t have to hide from me, Colleen.”

  Maybe she didn’t. Maybe he’d opened a crack. “Mac,” she said. “That’s what they called me at work.”

  “Okay, Mac. You feeling better?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “I think so. Thanks. How did you know? To bring me here, I mean.”

  “Physical activity always burns off stress. Foolproof.”

  She doubted this was the kind of physical activity he’d had in mind when he’d stopped by her apartment. He placed his hands at her shoulders and gently massaged her neck. Slowly, he increased the pressure, and she almost melted. The confusion she’d felt when he’d arrived at her door returned like a swarm of hornets, and something tightened inside her chest. His fingers moved across her shoulders. His warm breath tickled the side of her neck, and she jerked up, ramming her head into what must have been his nose.

  “Shit,” he said and turned away.

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you bleeding?”

  He turned to face her and pulled his hand away from his nose. “No. No blood. I’m all right. Took me by surprise.” He smiled. “Not that different from what you’ve been doing to me all night.”

  She felt herself blushing. “I can’t seem to figure out how I feel.”

  “You’ve had a rough day. What if we just talk?”

  “You’re back to your Celt stuff, aren’t you?”

  “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  She wished she knew. Feeling comfortable would be nice. “You said something about making CID this afternoon. Congratulations.”

  “A little premature. The office has ninety-day cross-training. Kind of a testing of the waters for both sides. I qualified, but there are two of us pretty much equal at the top of the list. The next ninety days give me a chance to prove myself.”

  “I’m sure you will. From what I can tell, you’d be a good detective. I hope you don’t die on the list before a slot opens.”

  As soon as she uttered the words, she realized she’d been talking like a cop. She forced herself to keep her gaze steady.

  Graham stared past her and when his focus returned, his eyes had deepened to midnight. “When were you going to tell me?”

  Her heart pounded, and she knew he knew. Thought she might even be relieved. “Tell you what?”

  “Colleen. No, Mac. You’re right, Mac suits you. You were a cop.”

  “You said you wouldn’t check on me.”

  “I didn’t. I can’t even say exactly when I knew. Maybe the way you went through your apartment, maybe the way you moved tonight. Or started talking like a cop. Or the way you seem to come to attention when you get irritated with me. Which, I may add, seems to be way too often.” He smiled. “There. Like now. You’re two inches taller, even sitting down.”

  She realized he was right and slouched again. “Better, Deputy?” She almost stopped breathing as she waited for him to ask her why she’d left the force.

  “Much. But I think maybe it’s time to take you home. You’ve had quite a day and I need to map out my plan of action for Schaeffer.” He stood and offered his hand.

  With a sigh, she took it, and when he’d pulled her to her feet, she didn’t let go. His hands were warm and strong, his eyes were gentle, and she was so tired of hiding. Something unraveled inside, and she let her fingers entwine with his and tilted her head up. He closed the short distance between them, and she pressed her lips to his, forcing his mouth open, probing with her tongue, needing him to fill an emptiness she hadn’t been aware of. She tasted the sweat-salt on his lips, heard his breathing quicken, felt the heat spreading to places inside her that hadn’t felt heat in far too long. Her knees grew weak, and she leaned into him. Felt his arousal. Felt him push her away.

  “What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?” she asked. She couldn’t have misread him.

  “Sweet Jesus, no.” His voice was hoarse. “But—” He tilted his head to a corner near the ceiling. Colleen followed his gaze and stood in numb shock.

  “A security camera. Why didn’t you say something?” Damn it, why hadn’t she noticed? She was getting sloppy. New fury started to bubble up inside. She’d dropped her guard for one second and it was “Smile, You’re on Candid Camera.”

  “I was a little too caught up in the moment to remember right away. Besides, Manny’s the epitome of discretion. He won’t say anything.”

  “So you’ve done this before?” She stomped over to the side of the room and pulled on her sweatshirt. “How many women has the Graham Cracker Man seduced on the mats in the gym?”

  “Colleen, wait…”

  She yanked on her socks and laced up her sneakers. “Take me home.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Now.”

  “Colleen, listen to me.” He stuck his gun into his jeans, picked up his socks and started shoving bare feet into his shoes.

  She pushed the door open. Striding down the hall, she was aware of his step-hopping as he tried to follow with his shoes half on, but she wouldn’t slow down. At the front counter, Manny glanced up, then made a point of studying a notebook whe
n she walked by. Graham caught up with her and pushed the exit door open for her. She slid past him, yanked the band from her ponytail and shook out her hair as she walked to his Jeep. He unlocked the door, she climbed in, buckled up and folded her arms across her chest.

  McDonalds didn’t cry.

  “Colleen. Mac. It’s not what you think.”

  “Shut up, Harrigan. Just shut up. I don’t want to think.”

  She clicked her belt off as soon as he turned into the driveway and hopped out of the car almost before it stopped. When she had her apartment door unlocked, she turned to see him still sitting in the car, engine running. She let herself in, closed the door, and secured the deadbolt. After she turned on the lamp, she heard the Jeep backing out of the driveway. Good riddance.

  Almost without thinking, she put the kettle on for some tea, powered on her computer and took a quick shower, trying not to think about what had happened. How close she’d come to opening up all the way, letting him in. Becoming another in an undoubtedly long list of conquests. Well, even if he went back to the gym, there wasn’t much for him and Manny to see. One kiss. The memory was still fresh, and the warmth spreading through her did nothing but make her seethe.

  No. Now was not the time to think about what had happened. Screw Harrigan, screw his damn blue eyes and his stupid Celt to Celt crap. Maybe she’d solve his damn case for him. Show him she was the better cop.

  Chapter Ten

  Graham drove away, barely aware of where he was going. His gut churned and he forced himself to pay attention to traffic. That’s all he’d need—getting pulled over on top of everything else he’d screwed up today. At his townhouse apartment complex, he parked the Jeep next to his cruiser and sat behind the wheel while he tried to sort out his thoughts. Colleen had been wrong about him. So why hadn’t he insisted she listen to him? Was she pissed at him, or the camera? After giving the steering wheel three good thwacks, he turned off the ignition and forced himself to walk at a civilized pace up the sidewalk to his apartment.