To Laney, With Love

by Joyce Sullivan

  “I’d be happy to take a few hours off to give you a ride over to Laney’s so you can get her input,” Ben offered. “You’re wasting your time here. And I don’t want you wasting the taxpayers’ money.”

  McBain accepted Ben’s invitation with a grin.

  Ben started piling files into his briefcase. He’d only used up five vacation days going to British Columbia with Laney. He still had plenty of leave remaining to take a half day off. He could work at home later tonight. Besides, he needed to see Laney. Reassure himself she was okay. She hadn’t wanted to see him last night when he’d called to tell her he’d just seen a clip on Graham Walker’s murder—and his double identity—on the national news. At least it was a sketchy report that focused more on Graham Walker’s marriage into the Butterfield family than Reese Dobson’s life. There was no mention of his having a wife and son. Ben didn’t know how long that would last.

  But he was worried about Laney. He could hear her verbal retreat from him when she’d explained how totally unnecessary it would be for him to come over because she had the TV and radio off, the doors were locked and she was screening her calls. She and Josh were fine. Besides, he would see Josh on Tuesday night anyway for hockey practice.

  Ben had the distinct impression she was more alarmed by the prospect of his dropping by for a few minutes, than of Reese’s murderer suddenly showing up on her doorstep.

  And he didn’t know what to do about it. He knew she’d enjoyed every second of their lovemaking the other night, but he didn’t have a clue as to what was going on in her heart. At least not yet. But he wouldn’t find out anything more from a distance.

  Women. Ben had no idea why they were so complicated.

  LANEY FELT A SHIVER ripple through her and turned on the taps in the bathtub full blast, keeping her fingers under the stream of deliciously warm water tumbling in a waterfall into the luxurious double whirlpool tub. She’d felt a bone-chilling cold ever since she’d crawled out of bed this morning to get Josh ready for school.

  She stared at her pensive reflection in the mirrors surrounding the tub as though examining her conscience for wrongdoing. She hadn’t been sure whether or not to send Josh to school today, but he’d insisted, acted like it would be a punishment to stay home and dwell on his father’s crimes.

  She’d taken him to school and had a private talk with his teacher and the principal, filling them in on the situation. Then, she’d raced over to the university press’s offices to pick up messages and a finished manuscript that was ready for editing. She’d bumped into Colombe at the University Center and spent a few minutes talking over coffee and bagels in the cafeteria, but even though she knew Colombe was more than willing to offer a listening ear, Laney couldn’t talk to her about Ben. Everything was too unsettled.

  Colombe, good friend that she was, had given her a supportive, understanding smile and offered to come by Friday night with a decadent dessert and coffee after Josh was in bed. Laney gratefully accepted the invitation.

  Maybe by Friday she’d be feeling better. Warmer, at least. The gleaming, dark-blue-and-white ceramic bathroom tiles, though bright and pretty, only made her feel colder. Maybe she’d picked up a bug on the plane. All that recirculated air.

  Or maybe she simply dreaded McBain’s visit later this afternoon. Maybe she didn’t want to know whatever secrets Reese’s electronic notebook held.

  Laney scooped her favorite bath salts into the water. The water pounded into the tub as she stripped off her clothes and pinned up her hair. Then she realized she’d left the cellular phone downstairs in her purse. The idea of leaving the steamy bathroom to get it sent another chill through her, but she’d promised Ben. And the idea of breaking a promise she made to him bothered her more than the idea of racing through a poorly insulated house when she was already chilled.

  Laney put on her robe and slippers and trudged downstairs to the kitchen. Her purse hung over one of the bleached-oak chairs. She grabbed it by the strap, not bothering to remove the phone. The sight of the unlocked front door as she made her way down the narrow front hall to the staircase made her glad she’d made the trip. Josh must have unlocked the door this morning and she hadn’t noticed because they’d left via the kitchen door. He was always opening the darn door and traipsing out onto the sunporch to see how cold it really was, as if the thermometer reading in the minus degrees wasn’t accurate enough.

  She threw the dead bolt into place and hurried upstairs, depositing her purse alongside the pile of her clothes on the padded bench beside the tub in her haste to be out of her robe and slippers.

  The tub was three-quarters full. She turned off the tap and lowered herself into the tub, sighing as the scented water covered her up to her chin. She rested her head against the bath pillow.

  Heaven!

  She could feel the heat sinking into her, sensuous with its embrace, unkinking the coiled threads of tension in her body and soothing the tangled confusion of her thoughts.

  Laney closed her eyes. If only all of life’s problems could be solved with a bath.

  She wasn’t sure when she became aware of the noise. It was a tiny creak. She opened her eyes and listened hard for what seemed like a full minute, then told herself she was being paranoid. It was only the house settling. Or the furnace. Or wind in the eaves.

  Her eyelids drifted closed. She felt almost as drowsy and sated as she had after Ben had made love to her. Her breasts were full and heavy. Her limbs relaxed. The only thing missing was the muscleplated hardness of Ben’s body beside her.

  As if by magic, the water lost its heat, no longer a suitable substitute for Ben.

  Laney recognized a lost cause when she encountered one. Sitting up with a sigh, she turned the large, shiny chrome knob to let the water drain from the tub and reached for a towel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bathroom door glide open soundlessly. Terror rose in her vocal cords as a draft of cool air bathed her shoulders and peppered her flesh with goose bumps.

  Laney shrieked as Dallyn Vohringer stepped into her bathroom and closed the door, locking both of them inside.

  “This THE STREET?” McBain asked Ben as they turned onto Laney’s block.

  “Yep,” Ben replied. It made him nervous the way the corporal’s eyes seemed to take in everything, making judgments that might affect Laney’s life. His life. “My son and I live a couple of blocks away. Laney’s house is the blue one halfway down the block. The one with the sunporch.”

  “Nice neighborhood. And I guess I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  . “Huh?” Ben said.

  McBain pointed to a vehicle parked at the end of the block. “There’s two men sitting in that gray sedan: Probably staking out their next job. Or Mrs. Dobson’s house.” Ben’s blood ran cold as McBain’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll check it out just to be sure. Could be a couple of guys having lunch, with the engine running. Pull over here.”

  Ben did as he was instructed, monitoring McBain’s progress to the sedan at the end of the block.

  His breath froze in his lungs as he tried to move at a casual pace toward Laney’s house. His boots made a muffled, crunching sound on the icy sidewalk. He hoped to hell McBain was wrong, but he had an uneasy feeling. Maybe he was just worried about Laney’s reaction to his arrival.

  Maybe he should call her and warn her he’d be landing on her doorstep in about thirty seconds. His worry turned to a tangible, living force when he punched in her number on the cellular phone and listened to one ring after another.

  Why the hell wasn’t she answering?

  LANEY LUNGED for her purse and thanked God Josh was safely at school. Why hadn’t she thought to lock the bathroom door? The locked door would have given her a few precious seconds to call for help.

  Dallyn ripped her purse out of her wet hands. “That’s a good idea,” he said with a malevolent smile. “Beat me up with your purse.”

  Laney fell back into the slippery tub with a splash. She slid on her backside as her feet f
lew up in the air. “What do you want?” she gasped, trying to push herself up out of the draining water with her elbows.

  “To tie up a loose end,” he replied. “Namely, you.” He caught her ankle in a viselike grip. His dark eyes had a brittle shine as he yanked her foot up, forcing her onto her back. Her free heel connected painfully with the six-inch-wide mouth of the decorative faucet as she tried to kick him. Laney yowled in pain, her cry turning into a gasp for air as her head plunged into the water. She kicked at him desperately with her free leg, the cruel pinch of his fingers on her trapped limb only enraging her further to fight. Josh was not going to lose her!

  Water churned around her as she flailed her arms and fought to raise her head high enough to take another breath, her fingers slipping on the surface of the tub. Her free foot encountered a thick spray of hot water. Dallyn must have plugged the drain and turned the tap on.

  Laney’s fingers curled around the pillow in the wall of the tub above her head. Her stomach muscles cramped as she struggled to lift herself up and fling it at him, to buy herself a fraction of a second to take another breath.

  Dallyn laughed and snapped his head around as a chirruping sound erupted from her purse.

  Ben was calling her!

  Anger and hope built to a white-hot inferno in her chest, but Laney could feel her legs losing their strength. Her fingers felt along the rim of the tub. There, something. Two gift-wrapped bars of seaweed soap Reese had bought her in Scotland. She grasped the bars, which were tied together with raffia, and threw.

  They hit Dallyn square in the face. He reeled back and released her.

  She heard him call her a nasty name as she scrambled to her knees and screamed, hoping one of the neighbors would hear. Dallyn clamped a hand over her mouth and shoved her head under the water.

  LANEY WASN’T ANSWERING. Did that mean she wasn’t home or she hadn’t brought the phone with her? Ben jammed the phone back in his coat pocket. He’d progressed to Laney’s front walk when he heard three consecutive honks, then a shout drift up from the end of the street. The gray sedan pulled away from the curb, fishtailed as it made a rapid U-turn on the slippery street, and raced toward Bank Street. McBain followed on foot.

  The sickening possibility that those three honks were a signal of some kind sent Ben charging up Laney’s front steps. He yanked open the door to her sunporch, wondering why Laney had left it unlocked. The front door was unlocked, as well.

  The possibility that someone could be in the house with her kept him from bellowing out her name. He could hear water running upstairs. From her bathroom? Ben took the stairs cautiously, his heart pounding a drumbeat of fear that echoed in his ears. If anything had happened to Laney, he’d never forgive himself.

  He heard splashing sounds as he cleared the threshold into her bedroom. Had she decided to have a bath and left her phone elsewhere in the house where she couldn’t hear it ring?

  Ben tested the door to the bathroom. It was locked. But a sharp voice laced with testosterone on the other side of the door severed Ben’s heart from his body.

  “I’ll teach you, you bitch—”

  Ben recoiled a few steps, his gaze racing wildly around Laney’s bedroom for a weapon of some sort, but nothing that looked capable of doing any damage was within obvious sight. Ben put his shoulder to the damn door. It gave way with a splintering crash and smashed against the wall. A numbing horror pierced Ben’s soul as he registered the image of Dallyn Vohringer leaning over the tub, holding Laney’s head under water, her pale limbs jerking spasmodically above the surface of the water.

  Vohringer whirled around at Ben’s unexpected arrival, releasing Laney. With a flick of his wrist, a switchblade gleamed in his hand. Behind him, Laney bobbed up out of the tub like an ancient sea temptress, water streaming from her hair and body, and gulped for air.

  The sound sent a shaft of relief coursing through Ben as he assumed a defensive stance and inched threateningly toward Vohringer, hoping to draw the man away from Laney until Corporal McBain showed up.

  “Put the knife down, Vohringer. It’s over.”

  “Not quite.” Vohringer’s eyes were hard and flat, his movements agile and confident. “I wanted to keep things nice and simple, but it looks like someone is going to have an awful cleanup job. You two are a liability I can no longer afford. You ask too many questions.” He thrust toward Ben with the knife.

  Ben heard Laney’s cry of alarm as he evaded Vohringer’s advance and circled slightly to the left, hoping to insert himself between Vohringer and Laney. Maybe if Vohringer had an unobstructed path to the door he’d choose to leave. Keeping his gaze trained on Vohringer, Ben used his peripheral vision to search the bathroom for potential weapons. Where the hell was McBain? Had he entered the house yet? And why didn’t Laney have a plunger or a baseball bat in plain sight?

  Ben raised his voice, hoping McBain could hear. “What, Vohringer, are you getting rid of her because you failed at making her your scapegoat for Reese’s murder?”

  “You’re so far from the truth it’s almost laughable. I didn’t have any reason to kill Reese. I had that thrill jockey right where I wanted him. All I had to do was show him the wedding portrait and his son’s toy and he was ready to bow to my wishes. Just as you will bow to my wishes.”

  Did that mean Vohringer had planted Laney’s things to cause trouble in Graham’s marriage? Ben didn’t have time to puzzle it out.

  With an evil smile, Vohringer launched himself at Ben, the knife glinting dangerously as it whisked a fraction of an inch from Ben’s abdomen. Ben grunted as he sidestepped the man’s attack and landed a blow on Vohringer’s shoulder with his elbow.

  Vohringer wheeled around and came at him again, determination blazing in his eyes. Ben backed away, conscious that Laney was huddling in the tub to his right. Vohringer jabbed at him again. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Laney move, saw a wave of water crash over the side of the tub and spill onto the floor. Vohringer slipped on the wet floor and lost his balance. Ben tried to knock the knife out of his hand and felt the sting of pain as the knife glanced off his ribs.

  Ben planted a fist on Vohringer’s jaw and wiped the triumphant smile off his face. Vohringer’s head snapped back as the blow propelled him backward, his feet flying out from under him on the slick floor. His head hit the ceramic-tiled tub surround with an ominous thud. Something flickered in his dark eyes just before his lids slid down and his facial features relaxed. Ben kicked the knife out of the downed man’s hand.

  “Freeze. Don’t move,” McBain barked from the doorway, his gun drawn.

  Ben nodded and doubled over, breathing hard, happy to oblige. “Can I at least pass Laney a towel?”

  “Sure. Take her into the bedroom,” McBain said, checking the wounded man’s vital signs. “Then call for assistance.”

  Ben didn’t care whether Vohringer was alive or dead. He passed McBain his cellular phone. “You call. I’ve got more important things to do.” Ben grabbed a dry towel and wrapped it around Laney’s naked body, relief and love bolting through him as their eyes met. She looked half-drowned and felt like a sodden feather pillow as he lifted her gently into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he sat down, cradling her in his lap. The enormity of what he’d almost lost descended upon him like a massive stone, causing his body to tremble and pain to radiate from his chest. That was just too damn close.

  Laney’s arms stole up and locked around his neck. The tightness of her grip brought a small measure of physical discomfort and a deeply satisfying smile to Ben’s mouth. As did the warm, moist feel of her bottom against his thighs. He could spend the rest of his life holding her, devoting himself to making her happy and keeping her safe from life’s problems. He smoothed the damp, tangled strands of hair away from her face, not the least bit concerned that his trousers and jacket were getting soaked. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s all over now.”

  Laney nodded as Ben’s reassuring words and the heat of his body slowly penet
rated the cocoon of shock that cloaked her body. She couldn’t even begin to tell him how thankful she was he’d saved her. How thankful she was to have him in her life. Vohringer could have killed him with that knife. She dug her fingers into the collar of his jacket and breathed in the rich, comforting smell of leather and Ben. The blade had come so close. Thank heavens he’d been wearing his jacket and it had offered some protection. She slid her fingers down over the damp suede covering his chest, reassuring herself that he was okay. Her fingers found a six-inch gash in the front of his jacket. Ben winced as she poked her fingers into the hole. When she pulled her hand away, her fingers were stained with blood. And so was her towel

  Laney leapt out of her stupor. “Oh, my God, Ben, you’re hurt.” She eased open his jacket and her mouth went dry. Ben’s navy turtleneck was saturated with blood. Vohringer’s aim had been far more lethal than she’d imagined.

  She could hear McBain on the phone in the bathroom. “McBain,” she barked over her shoulder as she yanked open a drawer to grab a handful of clean T-shirts to use as compresses. “Tell them we need a second ambulance. Hurry!”

  TWENTY-SEVEN STITCHES. The thought of them in Ben’s skin made the blood drain from Laney’s face as she examined the gauze pressure dressing taped to his chest.

  “Oh, Ben, you could have been killed,” she whispered, gazing into his blue-black eyes and touching his chest, just above the rim of the bandage. The warmth of his skin seeped from her fingers and floated on a euphoric path through her bloodstream. “Promise me you won’t show the boys your stitches. They’ll be worried sick. I never should have dragged you into this.”

  His lean fingers grasped her hand and Laney gasped as the pad of his thumb stroked her palm. “I wanted to be dragged. I’d do anything to protect you. Don’t you know that? Of course, it would be easier to protect you if you’d lock your doors.”