“Sweet thing like you? Sooner or later, he’s gonna come for you, don’t you think?”
Grace felt the blood drain from her face.
“I’ll take the couch,” said Ray, stepping around her.
Ray came awake to the sound of casters rolling across hardwood flooring. He glanced at the clock on the VCR and stifled a groan. Three in the morning. Ignoring his stiff back, he swung his feet to the floor and levered himself off the couch.
She didn’t hear him coming. For a moment, he leaned against the doorframe and watched her pore over the telephone book in the pool of light cast by the desk lamp. Beside her, the Pullman suitcase whose noisy wheels had woken him crouched next to two smaller bags.
His bags, he noted, recalling hers were still in the SUV where he’d shoved them after Quigg rescued them from the Mustang’s wreckage.
“Going somewhere, Grace?”
She whirled, one hand going to her throat. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Obviously not.” He flicked on the overhead light. “So, where are you off to this time?”
The abject misery in her face made him wish he could pull back that flippant question. But in a matter of seconds, the look was gone, her expression carefully smoothed.
She shrugged. “I thought I’d go back home for a few weeks.”
“Oh, Lord, not that.”
She colored fiercely. “It’s all right. I can handle Mama.”
“You don’t have to go back there, Grace. You don’t have to go anywhere.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I can’t stay.”
“Why not? This is your home, too.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I just can’t.”
Suddenly, he couldn’t bear for her to leave. Not again. Not yet.
“If you leave now, Grace, you might lose your only chance of regaining those memories.”
She looked up at him then, her beautiful eyes red-rimmed and brimming with more tears. “I don’t want to remember.”
Her unhappiness pierced him. “Don’t worry about it tonight. Just go back to bed. Things’ll look better in the morning.”
“I can’t sleep. I feel like I might never sleep again.”
He almost smiled at that. “You will. Life has a way of going on. We’ll figure something out. But right now, let’s get you back to bed. I’ll take these cases up.”
She studied him for a moment. “You really want me to stay?”
What he wanted was for the last week not to have happened.
No, he wanted more than that. He wanted to go back in time to when Grace felt the first stirring of dissatisfaction, only this time he’d pay attention to what she needed, what she wanted.
But that was a child’s wish. An impossibility. There was no going back. He’d settle for understanding what had happened.
Settle for it? Hell, he needed to know what had gone wrong. He didn’t see how he could go on from here without that knowledge. And for that to happen, Grace had to remember.
“Yes, I want you to stay.”
Her eyes lit, and Ray cursed himself. Hope was a luxury neither of them could afford. So he looked away and did what he had to. “What I mean is, it’d be better for both of us if you regain your memory, and this is the best place for you to do it.”
“I see.”
“I doubt it. Now go on up. I’ll bring you a hot toddy.”
“I’m scared, Ray.”
The fear in her voice brought his head up. And, oh, damn, he shouldn’t have looked into her eyes. He sighed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”
“I think it’s bad, the thing I can’t remember. I think it could hurt us. It could hurt you.”
“No.” Ray couldn’t have kept the bleakness out of his voice if he tried. “It can’t get any worse. It can only get better from here. Trust me. I need you to do this for me, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, then turned and climbed the stairs.
Grace listened to Ray’s breathing, deep and even in the darkness, and knew he was asleep. He’d held himself stiffly for hours, until finally, finally, he succumbed some twenty minutes ago.
It was pity alone that kept her husband here on the bed with her, albeit on top of the covers. She knew it, but she didn’t care. It was such a comfort to have him lie so close, to breathe the same air he breathed.
Dear God, she didn’t want to remember. There was something there, something ugly just beyond her reach, and it was bad.
But Ray needed her to remember, so remember she would.
Even if it killed her.
Shivering, she drew the duvet closer, shut her eyes and let exhaustion claim her.
Chapter 3
SOME PEOPLE CLEANED COMPULSIVELY when anxiety rode them. Some threw themselves into their jobs. Others unplugged from life and plugged into the television. Grace cooked.
By the time Ray came downstairs the next morning, she’d amassed a small mountain of pancakes, cooked a half-pound of bacon, and set a dozen blueberry muffins on a rack to cool.
He cocked an eyebrow at the spread. “Expecting company?”
Grace blushed. “I thought I’d go back to work. I guess I felt in need of some fortifying.”
He poured himself a coffee. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“Positive.” She met his skeptical gaze. “I’m not going to remember anything as long as I’m closeted here, racking my brain. It’ll come easier if I go back to my normal routine.”
“Makes sense, but your boss’ll be surprised.” He heaped his plate full and headed for the table. “I left a message on her voice mail saying you’d be out for a couple of weeks.”
“Yes, Katie will be surprised, but I expect she can use me.”
She topped up her coffee and took the chair opposite him. For a moment she just watched him eat.
He looked so ... normal. Faded jeans hugged his legs, and his favorite black sweater, a little snug since that time she’d tossed it in the dryer, skimmed his torso. A week ago, she’d have found an excuse to lean across the table. He’d have caught her with a growl and pulled her onto his lap. She’d have laughed and brushed that lock of hair off his forehead, kissed his brow, his nose, his mouth....
He glanced up to catch her watching him, and she dropped her hungry gaze.
“Not eating?”
“I ate already,” she lied, knowing she couldn’t choke down a morsel. She took a sip of her coffee to ease her throat.
“You must be anxious to get back to work, too, I suppose.”
His fork stilled. “I won’t be going back for another week.”
Grace’s stomach flipped. She put her cup down. “Because you want to hang around here, waiting for him to show up.”
Ray pushed his plate away and threw his napkin down. “Because Quigg’ll suspend me if I go back sooner.”
“What?”
“I’m under orders to patch things up with you.”
Her face burned. “John knows?”
“He knows something’s not right.” Ray drained his coffee and pushed his chair back. “I’m going to fetch the truck.”
She blinked. “How will you get there? We have no car.”
“I’ll walk. I can use the exercise.”
She followed him to the door.
“I’ll take you to work when I get back. They’re not expecting you anyway, so they shouldn’t mind if you’re late.”
A week ago, she’d have been happy to fall in with his suggestion, but now she couldn’t bear the idea of waiting around for him to come back and retrieve her. Maybe because her life felt so out-of-control, she needed to take charge of something.
“No, thanks, I’ll call a taxi.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I’ll see about a rental for you, until we settle with the insurance.”
That lock of hair fell forward again, and she battled the urge to smooth it back. He’d only pull away and then she’d have to cry. The last thing she needed on her first da
y back was puffy, blood-shot eyes. Katie’d send her right back home.
“No, I’ll take care of that, too,” she said.
“It’s no trouble. I have lots of time on my hands.”
Out of nowhere, resentment boiled up. “It’s my mess, Ray. Mine. For once, let me clean it up myself.”
She turned and stalked back to the kitchen, knowing he was probably gaping after her. Grabbing his plate, she scraped the uneaten food into the garbage disposal then turned the unit on so she wouldn’t have to hear the door close behind him.
Ray quickly realized that the day was too hot for the sweater he wore. It would have been fine had he been riding in his truck, but on foot, he’d already broken a sweat despite the relative coolness of the late August morning. Damned if he’d go back to change, though. Once he got clear of the close-set town houses, the breeze picked up, cooling him.
Too bad it couldn’t cool the anger burning in his chest.
He turned onto a main thoroughfare and started the long walk up the hill to the car dealer.
Where the hell did Grace get off? All he’d done was offer to rent her a car so she wouldn’t be stuck at home, but she’d rounded on him like a cat who’d had its hair ruffled the wrong way.
Well, if she wanted to take care of her damn mess, she was welcome to it.
Thirty minutes later, Ray stood, hot and irritable, in front of the dealership manager. “Mr. Melville, you got the message I left you on your voice mail?”
“I sure did, Detective.”
“Then you know I came close to becoming a hood ornament for a Freightliner because of your service department’s negligence.”
The other man shifted. “I’m sorry about that, but before you say anything more, I’d like you to take a look at the vehicle.”
“Let me guess.” His words dripped sarcasm. “You’re gonna show me something to suggest this wasn’t your fault at all.”
The manager colored but kept his composure. “The customer is always right, of course, and if you feel it was our negligence, we’re quite prepared to replace the tire and the bent rim free of charge. But if you’d just take a look, sir.”
He shrugged and started toward the garage bays.
“No, not in there,” called Mr. Melville.
Ray looked around, then lifted an eyebrow. “Where, then?”
“Way over at the far corner of the lot. I had it moved this morning.”
“Why?”
Mr. Melville cleared his throat. “Frankly, we’re a little leery of it.”
Ray’s mouth fell open. “Come again?”
“We think it may have been sabotaged.”
“You shittin’ me?”
“Please, Detective, let’s just have a look.”
Three minutes later, Ray toed the shredded tire. “Okay, what am I looking for?”
“Not the tire. The door, over here on this side.”
Ray moved to the passenger side. “What about it?”
“See those scratches? It looks like someone used a car-breaking tool on it, the kind the tow-truck driver uses after you’ve locked your keys in.”
“Slim Jim?”
“Right. And it looks like it was used with some haste.”
Ray examined the scratches and grunted noncommittally. “Maybe. Or maybe they’ve been there for months. Who’d notice a few scratches like that?”
“Would you notice if your glove compartment was broken?”
“Definitely. I always keep it locked.”
“Not anymore. It’s busted.”
Ray peered through the window. Sure enough, the door of the glove compartment hung open.
“Okay, so someone broke into my vehicle. I don’t see how that advances your case for sabotage. In fact, it probably happened last night, right here on your lot. I’d have noticed last night if the glove compartment were broken.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Someone went to the trouble of sticking it shut with electrical tape.”
Before Ray could express his skepticism, the manager took his arm and urged him back a step or two from the vehicle.
“See the nut covers on those rims?” He pointed to the rear wheel.
“Yeah.”
“You have to use a special adapter to remove those covers.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had to change a tire on this vehicle.”
“Guess it’s supposed to deter opportunists from stripping the wheels right out from under you. It’s a small little do-hickey, about so big around and so long.” The older man used his fingers to approximate the size. “We generally put them in the glove compartment so they don’t get lost.”
In the glove compartment. The broken glove compartment.
“Let me guess—mine’s gone.”
“Gone,” he confirmed.
“Maybe your man forgot to put it back, like he forgot to put all the lug nuts on.”
The older man snorted. “Yeah, and maybe we broke into your car and busted your glove compartment to shift the blame away from ourselves. But we didn’t, Detective. I’ve already told you, we’re prepared to pay for the tire and the bent rim, even the tow charges. What do we stand to gain by lying about this?”
“How about so I don’t sue your ass?”
“You won’t sue.” Melville’s response was immediate. “Even if you could prove negligence, you’d also have to prove damages. This incident might have given you some grey hairs, but the courts don’t take judicial notice of that.”
Ray arched an eyebrow. “What, you studying law in your spare time?”
Melville returned his stare.
Ray rubbed his neck. The man had a point. Maybe there had been tampering.
“Come on over here, Detective.”
Ray followed the other man around the car.
“Okay, we’ve taken all but one of the nut covers and nuts off the front tire on this side, just so you can see what it looks like.”
“Pretty noticeable,” he conceded.
“I’ll say! Stands out like a missing hubcap. If we hadn’t put ’em back on that left front wheel when we rotated your tires two weeks ago, you couldn’t help but notice it. You’da had a gander at it every time you approached the vehicle.”
Dammit, he was right. No way could he have overlooked that. Noticing details was second nature.
“Look, you probably think I’ve been watching too many movies, but all of these things—”
“Actually, I think you might be onto something.”
“You do?”
“I do. Can I use your phone? I need to get a team up here to go over this vehicle.”
Four hours later, Ray guided the thoroughly-inspected Pathfinder into his driveway.
Ident had dusted for prints, but Ray wasn’t hopeful. Whoever did this would have worn gloves, or wiped the surfaces clean. Then the bomb squad guys swept the vehicle. Lastly, the dealer’s mechanics had given it an exhaustive mechanical inspection. It was clean. There was even a replacement adapter thingy for tire changes nestled in the newly-repaired glove box.
He’d felt a little dumb summoning the guys, and fully expected to take a ribbing for it, especially when the vehicle came up clean. There were, of course, a few cracks about going to any lengths to escape paying for a safety inspection, but once they’d heard about his near miss on the highway, they’d turned deadly serious.
Ray guided the SUV into the garage, then closed and locked the metal overhead door. If someone really was out to get him, no point making it easy. Still, he’d feel better when he got an alarm system installed, on both the truck and the house.
At least he didn’t have to face Grace yet. She’d be at work. When he’d called earlier to tell her he’d be delayed, she’d already left the house. Ray selected his house key, inserted it in the lock and twisted. It didn’t turn. What the hell?
With his left hand, he twisted the knob and the door swung inward. Unlocked. Grace never left the house without locking it.
His hand went a
utomatically to where his shoulder holster should have been. Damn.
Call the cops. Isn’t that what he preached in this situation? Never investigate yourself.
Except he was a cop, albeit an unarmed one. And no way was he going to call in the cavalry twice in one day. Besides, he wouldn’t be unarmed for long.
Ray pushed the door open and risked a quick glance. The foyer was clear. He eased inside, scanning the room. Leaving the door ajar, he glided to the stairs.
His heart pounding, he held his breath, listening.
Nothing.
Moving stealthily, he climbed the stairs, taking care to avoid the squeaky tread three steps down from the top. The hallway was clear, too. A few more steps and he’d be in his bedroom where his gun sat in a locked strongbox in the closet.
The bedroom door was ajar, but there was nothing unusual in that. Careful not to hug the wall too closely—an excellent way to catch a ricochet—he crept the few steps to the bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, he peered around the doorjamb. The room was empty, though he could still smell Grace’s perfume. He exhaled, drew another deep breath.
Still in stealth mode, battling adrenaline, he entered the bedroom. He moved to the night table, feet soundless on the carpet. The drawer pulled out silently. Grabbing the clip for the 9mm, he moved quickly to the closet where he eased the bi-fold door open, grimacing at the small noise it made.
As quietly as he could, he drew his keys from his pocket and knelt to open the strongbox.
Then he heard a muffled thump from the en suite bathroom. Abandoning stealth for speed, he jammed the key into the lock, twisted it and flipped the box open. Snatching his weapon, he jammed the clip home, slid a round in the chamber and whirled.
“Ray!”
Grace. It was only Grace.
“Ray, what are you doing?”
Christ, he’d pointed a loaded gun at Grace. Was still pointing a loaded gun at her. Hastily, he dropped his arm.
“Dammit, you scared me.”
“I scared you?” She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep her heart from leaping out.
“I found the door unlocked.” His heart still pounding, he unloaded the automatic and returned the clip to the drawer.
Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series) Page 4
