"You should have waited for me to lift all these boxes," Jack said, his face only inches from hers, his voice deep and low. "I'd say this was man's work, but you don't like dividing chores by gender, do you?"
She swallowed nervously as his mouth came closer and closer, until only a hairbreadth separated his lips from hers. "Hetty and I have never had a problem getting these boxes downstairs." Her voice squeaked slightly.
"Let me make it easier for you this year. I can do the heavy work, and you can oversee the job."
She found herself caught like an insect in a spider's web, trapped by the desire she saw in Jack's golden-brown eyes, eyes the color of dark topaz. He was going to kiss her. All she had to do was turn her head to avoid the kiss. But she waited, her breath caught in her throat, and didn't voice a protest when his mouth made contact with hers. Just a soft brush of his lips, his breath warm. The tension inside her eased slightly. She hadn't been expecting this sweet tenderness. He played with her mouth, gentling her with an expertise she knew had come from years of practice. But at this very moment she didn't care how many women he'd kissed. All that mattered was that he was kissing her. And she was kissing him back.
The moment she responded, he slid one of his hands down her back and splayed it across the base of her spine, then lifted his other hand to cup the back of her head. She whimpered as pure sexual pleasure roared through her body like a freight train. She opened her mouth for his invasion, inviting him in, her need as strong as his.
Jack released her abruptly, leaving her bereft, her dazed mind wondering what had happened. He clutched her shoulders.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
"Hear what?"
Hetty's cry rose to the attic, the panic in her voice obvious. "Come downstairs right now! Hurry!"
"Oh, Lord, Wendy!" Fear seized Peggy Jo.
Jack squeezed her shoulders, then released her. He turned around and headed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Peggy Jo rushed after him, into the second-story hallway and down the stairs to the foyer. Hetty stood guard over Wendy, who clung fiercely to the housekeeper.
"What is it?" Jack asked. "What happened? Are you two all right?"
"In there—" Hetty nodded toward the living room. "And we're fine. Just scared. Darn thing took us by surprise."
Peggy Jo rushed forward, knelt on her knees and pulled Wendy into her arms. Then she glanced over Wendy's head to look into the living room. She gasped.
One of the windows facing the front of the house had been broken. Glass fragments lay scattered over the wooden floor and colorful oriental rug. Lying almost dead center in the room was a large object the size of a small cannonball.
"Nobody touch it," Jack ordered as he rushed past them to open the front door. He ushered them out onto porch and into the yard.
Wendy cried, "Somebody broke our window."
"Yes, I know. But it's all right. Jack's here and he'll take care of everything." Odd how she was able to say that so easily, so confidently and without any reservations.
A car parked across the street revved its motor and sped away. Jack cursed loudly, then removed his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it to Peggy Jo.
"Call the police," Jack said. "See if you can contact Detective Gifford. Tell him to come over here pronto. I didn't get the license plate number off that car—if he was even our guy—but I recognized the make and model."
She nodded.
"Y'all go around to the backyard and stay out of the house until I come and get you," he said.
Peggy Jo's heartbeat drummed inside her head. "Why? What do you think—"
"I've got to check things out inside. Understand?" He looked point-blank at Wendy, indicating why he wasn't speaking bluntly.
"Yes, I understand." Peggy Jo grabbed Jack's arm. "Please be careful."
He cupped her chin, then raked his thumb across her lips. "I'm always careful, darling."
Peggy Jo tugged Wendy's hand and motioned for Hetty. They did just as Jack had told them to do and went straight to the backyard, all the way out to the gym set in the far back corner.
"Why did Jack want us to come out here?" Wendy asked. "It's cold and we don't have our coats."
"We won't have to stay out here long, sweetpea," Peggy Jo said and prayed she was right. "Jack will come get us in few minutes." She took off her sweater and wrapped it around Wendy. "Why don't you go inside your playhouse?"
The five minutes that passed seemed more like five hours to Peggy Jo. She realized that Jack thought as she did—that the object hurled through her window might be some sort of bomb. Please, God, please, don't let anything happen to Jack. Just the thought of him getting hurt was more than she could bear.
"Hetty, keep Wendy out here," Peggy Jo said.
"Jack won't like it if you go in there with him," Hetty told her.
"I can't stay out here wondering what's going on."
"You can and you will. Let the man do his job. He's an expert."
"What on earth did I ever do to deserve this kind of harassment?"
Hetty opened her mouth to speak but halted as she stared toward the house. That's when Peggy Jo realized Jack's presence on the back porch had distracted Hetty.
Peggy Jo ran toward the porch. Jack met her in the middle of the backyard. He held up an innocent-looking baseball.
"This was at the core of the ball that shattered the window. There were layers of paper wrapped around it. You need to take a look at those papers." Jack lifted his arm and waved at Hetty. "You can bring Wendy inside now. You two stay busy in the den while Peggy Jo and I check out the mess in the living room."
After he escorted her inside, they went straight to the living room. He took her by the arm and led her to sofa.
"Take a look at those." Jack pointed to the wrinkled pictures glued to newspaper that he had spread out on the sofa cushions.
"Don't touch them," he advised. "I picked them up using Hetty's plastic gloves I found in the pantry. There probably aren't any prints on these, but our guy could have slipped up and left just one print or even left a clue we can't see with the naked eye."
Peggy Jo studied the pictures. Pictures of her. Of Wendy. Of Jack. Pictures taken earlier today: going into the Children's Hour Bookstore; going into the Big River restaurant; on the front porch of the house.
"Oh, my God, he was following us, taking pictures and we didn't even know it." Salty bile churned in Peggy Jo's stomach. "How could we not have seen him?"
"He wasn't close by," Jack told her. "These were probably taken with a telescopic lens. Know anybody who's an amateur photographer?"
The blood ran cold in her veins. "Yes. I know two people."
"Who?"
"Ross Brewster. He wants to be a professional photographer someday," Peggy Jo said. "He has several cameras and is always snapping shots of me and the guests on my show. Several of the pictures on the wall in my office are ones Ross took."
"Let's hope Ross has an alibi for today." Jack put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from the photographs. "Who else?"
"What?"
"You said you knew two shutterbugs. Who's the other?"
"My ex-husband. Photography was one of Buck's hobbies."
"Do you still think he doesn't make a prime suspect?" Jack asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. But I still don't understand why he'd come after me now when we've had no contact in thirteen years." She realized it was time to admit the possibility, however remote, that Buck might be her stalker. The very thought terrorized her, but she knew she had to face the truth. "Maybe you should put Buck on your suspects list and—"
"I already have," Jack told her. "The Dundee Agency is going to do some investigating into his whereabouts and I'm going to insist that the local authorities stop dragging their feet. It's past time they took your predicament seriously."
* * *
Chapter 8
« ^ »
Hoyt Gifford had the look of rumpled newspaper and minded
Peggy Jo of a middle-aged private eye from an old forties film-noir mystery. He'd brought along a crime-scene investigator, a rookie no doubt, at least by the looks of him. A wide-eyed, twenty-something kid named Sterling. But at least Detective Gifford was actually investigating, which was more than he'd done in the past. The police had been convinced that Jill Lennard was staging all the stalker incidents, but now that they'd had to deal with Jack a few times, the detective seemed to be giving her the benefit of the doubt. She wondered if Jack had said something to Gifford, perhaps even issued him a warning. Despite his good-ole-boy charm, Jack could be rather intimidating. And besides that, he had the prestigious Dundee Agency backing him. And from what Jack had told her, the agency had all the right connections with various federal agencies.
Sterling looked over the broken window and the debris in the living room, then bagged the baseball and the photographs. He continued gathering whatever evidence he could find around the place, while Gifford asked more questions.
"I've called in your description of the vehicle," the detective said. "But I doubt anything will come of it." He turned to Peggy Jo. "You're sure you don't know anyone with a car of that make, model and color?"
Peggy Jo shook her head. "No, I don't."
"Looks like your admirer is getting closer with each new stunt," Gifford said.
"And more dangerous," Jack added.
"Yeah," Gifford agreed. "Ransacking Ms. Riley's dressing room, leaving a package on her back porch, following her and taking pictures and now breaking a window in her house." He scratched his balding head, making the fluffs of gray hair stick straight up. "Now that he's moved beyond just letters and phone calls, it's not likely that he'll go backward. I'd say y'all can expect more destructive acts and perhaps even personal violence."
Peggy Jo was glad that Wendy and Hetty were out of earshot, safely ensconced in the den, watching one of Wendy's The Land Before Time videos. She wanted her child protected from this ugliness as much as possible. What worried her the most about the whole situation was the effect it might have on Wendy.
"Do you think my child or my housekeeper is in any danger?" Peggy Jo asked.
Gifford gnawed on his bottom lip while he considered her question, then said, "Maybe. Maybe not. It's hard to tell with these weirdos. Sometimes the only person in any danger is the one the guy is obsessed with. So far he hasn't threatened anyone but you, has he?"
"No, only me." Peggy Jo wrapped her arms around her waist.
"We'll do what we can do on our end, but I'll have to tell you that in cases like this, the odds are against us. We might not know who this guy is until he's ready to show himself, and by then it might be too—"
Jack cleared his throat loudly. Gifford froze to the spot as his gaze met Jack's. The detective wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then rubbed his jaw.
"Parker here thinks we need to look into the whereabouts of three men in particular, so I'll check with Ross Brewster and Chet Compton to find out where they were this afternoon," Gifford said. "And we'll run a check on your ex-husband to see if we can find out where he is and what he's been up to lately."
Well, at least this was progress, Peggy Jo thought. The police were finally taking the situation seriously.
As she and Jack walked Gifford and Sterling to the front door, the detective paused in the foyer. "By the way, when's the last time you heard from your ex-husband?"
"I haven't seen or heard from Buck since our divorce thirteen years ago. Why do you ask?"
"Just a thought, ma'am. Wouldn't it be odd for a man who hadn't been a part of your life for that long to suddenly begin stalking and harassing you?"
Before Peggy Jo could respond, Jack said, "Odd as it might be, I want you to run a check on the man. Find out where he's living, where he works, if he's married and if he's been in any trouble since Ms. Riley divorced him."
"Yeah, sure," Gifford said. "But we'd probably do better to concentrate our efforts on finding out if Brewster and Compton have alibis."
Jack walked to their car with Gifford and Sterling. Peggy Jo waited on the front porch. Even though it wasn't quite seven o'clock, the crescent moon appeared in the black sky, and the temperature had fallen a good ten degrees. As soon as Gifford slammed the door on his midsize sedan, Jack hurried up the sidewalk and bounded onto the porch.
He put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the closed front door. "Let's go inside. It's getting downright chilly out here."
Halting in the foyer, Peggy Jo gazed into the living room. "We'll have to do something about the broken windows. That ball destroyed the storm window, too."
"I'll need a big piece of plastic, a hammer and some nails," Jack said. "I'll do a patch job tonight, and in the morning we'll put in a call to see if we can get somebody out to replace the glass."
"I'll ask Hetty about the plastic. The hammer and nails will be in the pantry. I have my own toolbox. That's something I preach to my audience—learn how to fix little things around the house without depending on a man to do it for you."
"For now, with this project, you can depend on this man—" he pointed to himself "—to fix it. Tell Hetty that if she doesn't have anything sturdier, a couple of large garbage bags will do."
"I'll get the things you'll need," Peggy Jo said. "And while you're covering the window, I'll sweep up the glass and put things back in order in the living room."
* * *
Working as a team, he and Peggy Jo finished the repair and cleanup job in record time. After he hammered in the last nail to secure the layer of black garbage bags over the broken window, she loosened the tie-backs and drew the damask curtains to cover the ugly plastic.
"Now that we've got that done, how about I bring down the Christmas boxes and we put up the tree?" Jack suggested.
Peggy Jo let out a long, low sigh. "I'd like to forget about Christmas, the tree, the decorations … everything." Propping her hands on the broom handle, she looked at Jack and forced a weak smile. "You don't have to say it. I know. I can't let today's incident affect the way I live my life. If I do, then I'll give my stalker power over me, and that's just what he wants."
"That's true, too. But it wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to say that, for Wendy's sake, you have to continue your life as usual, including your annual holiday rituals."
Wendy deserved a normal holiday season, and it was up to her to see that the annual traditions she had started when her daughter was a toddler continued this year. Despite any and all outside interference. "You're right."
"Did I hear you correctly? Did you actually tell me—a mere man—that I'm right?" Jack teased.
She grinned at him. "Okay, so maybe I deserved that comment. I have given you a difficult time. And I do tend to let my low opinion of some members of the male sex cloud my vision occasionally."
With the hammer in one hand and the extra nails in the other, Jack crossed the room, came up to Peggy Jo and brought his arms down on top of her shoulders. He lowered his head just enough so that they were nose to nose. "Darling," he said in that incredibly sexy Texas drawl, "don't you know by now that I'm not like any other man you've ever met?"
His nearness took her breath away, but despite warning bells going off inside her head, she didn't move away from him. "I'm well aware of that fact." She drew in a deep, steadying breath and willed herself not to succumb to his charm. And Lord knew he practically oozed charm from the pores of his skin. "And I'll bet you're aware of the fact that I'm not like any woman you've ever known."
His lips hovered over hers, taunting, tempting. "That's for sure."
Just as he moved in for the kiss, Peggy Jo tightened her hold on the broom, gave it a little shove and tapped Jack in the center of his chest with the handle. "You'd better start bringing the boxes down from the attic. The one marked Tree has the Christmas tree in it."
Jack chuckled, removed his arms from her shoulders and leisurely backed away from her. "So, where do you want the boxes? I suppose you
set the tree up in here, don't you?"
"Yes." As she studied the closed drapes covering the dark plastic garbage bags that covered the broken window, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "We always put it in front of the windows, but I'm not sure how it'll look there now."
"We'll set it up where you usually do. By Monday you'll have new glass in the window."
"Fine, then." She picked up the dustpan and put it on top of the garbage can filled with broken glass. "I'll get rid of these, check on Hetty and Wendy and meet you back in here in a few minutes. We'll set the tree up first, then open the other boxes."
Peggy Jo headed for the kitchen while Jack went upstairs. After putting the garbage can on the back porch, she returned the broom and dustpan to the pantry. When she entered the den, Hetty glanced up from where she sat on the sofa with Wendy and Fur Ball, who lay sleeping on a pillow in Wendy's lap.
"Get everything taken care of?" Hetty asked.
Peggy Jo nodded. "Jack's gone up to the attic to bring down the tree."
Wendy's vision moved quickly from the television screen to Peggy Jo's face. "Are we still going to put up the tree?"
"Of course we are," Peggy Jo said.
Wendy tenderly stroked the sleeping kitten's back. "I thought maybe since somebody broke our window and the police came and—"
"No, no, don't be silly, sweetpea." Peggy Jo rushed over to the sofa and sat beside Wendy, then took her daughter's hands in hers. "We're not going to let some mean person who likes to break out people's windows ruin things for us. We're putting up the tree tonight. And tomorrow we'll finish decorating the house, just like always."
Hetty rose to her feet. "Well, it sounds as if we've got a big job on our hands tonight. I'd better see about putting together a bite of supper for us."
"Thanks, Hetty. Supper would be nice," Peggy Jo said. "In all the hurry-scurry, I'd forgotten about supper."
"Why don't you two go help Jack set up the tree. Then after supper we can get started on the decorations." Hetty went into the kitchen, immediately opened the refrigerator and began pulling out covered bowls.
JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION Page 10
