by Mallory Kane
“Damned easy disguise,” Hale muttered.
“Tell me about it. All he had to do was take off the cap. He was tall though.”
Sheriff Hale nodded and rubbed a hand over his head. “Not tall enough.”
Matt snorted. “Yeah.” From what he’d seen, the shooter was probably about six feet tall—taller than many of the people in the café but certainly not tall enough to stand out without that blue cap on.
Another reporter was headed their way. Matt turned his back on her and caught the sheriff’s eye. He gestured with his head.
The sheriff put a finger to the earpiece of his com unit, listening. “Okay,” he said. “Get the officers back here, and let’s get this crowd dispersed.”
Matt turned up the volume on his unit. Deputy Appleton was talking. Behind him, Matt could hear Farraday speaking through his com unit.
“No one with a baseball cap seen leaving past the perimeter.”
“One bodyguard shot. Shoulder wound.”
“Mayor Arkwright and Ms. Scott were knocked down. Both seem to be fine.”
Faith! Matt’s heart skipped. She’d been standing right by the kitchen door. The bodyguards, in their dash to get Governor Lockhart to safety, had rushed the doors to the kitchen and trampled the mayor and Faith.
Dear God, he hoped she hadn’t been hurt.
Torn between his duty and his worry for Faith, Matt looked at the sheriff, who nodded.
“Go ahead,” Hale said. “I’ve got this.”
FAITH FROWNED AT MATT and pushed his hand away from her forehead again. “I told you, I’m fine,” she said irritably. The flashing red lights of the ambulance were turning her headache into a migraine, she was feeling queasy and her elbow throbbed where she’d scraped it on the door hinge.
“According to the EMT, your blood pressure’s up. And Dr. Kendall said he’d put you in the hospital if—”
“If it went too high,” she finished. “It’s not. Now please, stop fussing. This is a scraped elbow,” she continued, pointing at the burning scratches. “That is a gunshot wound,” she gestured toward the EMTs, who were loading the wounded bodyguard into the ambulance, hindered in their efforts by the gaggle of reporters and cameramen crowded around the ambulance doors.
Matt sent her an exasperated look. “The bodyguard’s got a flesh wound in his shoulder. And he’s not pregnant.”
“Ha ha,” she retorted. “Now if you’ll get out of my way, I need to take a look at the damage to my café.” She moved to rise, but her shaky legs didn’t seem to want to work. She didn’t want to tell Matt, but for a few seconds after the gunshot rang out, she’d been afraid she and the baby would be trampled.
The governor’s bodyguards had wasted no time in grabbing Lila Lockhart and the injured guard and boldy carrying them off the stage and through the kitchen, without regard to anyone standing in their path.
The mayor had been shoved into the counter and had the breath knocked out of him. Faith was thankful she’d been behind him or it would have been her tummy—her baby—slamming into the sharp wooden edge of the counter.
As it was, she’d been knocked aside by a guard. She’d fallen against the kitchen door’s frame and scraped her elbow on the hinge. The only thing that had kept her from tumbling to the ground and being trampled was that her blouse had caught on the hinge.
“Damn it, Faith,” Matt snapped. “If you’d just done what Dr. Kendall said, you’d have been upstairs out of harm’s way.”
He put a hand out to steady her as she stood. “Now look at you. You can’t even walk by yourself. Didn’t the governor’s staff tell you they’d take care of the damage? Come on. I’m taking you upstairs and putting you to bed, where you should have been all along.”
She opened her mouth.
“Or I can call Dr. Kendall, and you know what he’ll do,” he said sternly.
Faith didn’t protest again. It had been a long, exhausting day. As Matt’s strong arm around her waist helped her up the stairs, she asked, “What about the shooter? Did they catch him?”
“Nope. He was wearing a baseball cap, so all he had to do was drop the cap and he’d be indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd.”
“He was trying to kill Governor Lockhart?” she asked as Matt guided her through the crowd, into the café and up the stairs.
He nodded grimly as he unlocked her door. “He was standing behind Henry Kemp.”
Faith stepped inside her living room and sat heavily on the couch. “Oh. I forgot to tell you. Henry came into the café yesterday afternoon. He wanted to check on the plans for his great-grandaughters’ birthday treat. He’d told me last week he wanted to bring them in this afternoon for banana splits. But I had to tell him he couldn’t do it today because of the town hall meeting.”
Matt nodded. “I’ll bet he was real happy about that,” he said sarcastically.
“Matt, he…he threatened her. I mean, sort of. He said she’d be sorry she spoiled his great-grandaughters’ party—‘one way or another,’ he said.”
Matt’s mouth went grim. “I’m afraid he’s gone round the bend about this feud with the Lockharts. Look how he yelled out that she was a liar in front of all those people and the TV cameras!”
“I know. I was surprised that he did that. It’s really not like him.”
Matt’s brow furrowed. “Not like him? He blasts the governor every chance he gets. Look at what you just told me he did yesterday.”
“I know. It worried me. His face turned purple. I was afraid he’d have a heart attack. But I don’t think he’d actually do anything. He’s a big blowhard, and he’ll never get over what he thinks the Lockharts did to his family, but he’s got a granddaughter and beautiful twin great-granddaughters. He’d rather take a bullet himself than do anything to hurt them.”
Matt looked at her sharply. “That’s exactly what I told—” He stopped and dropped his gaze.
“Told who?”
He clenched his jaw. He had to be more careful. He’d almost blown his cover by mentioning that he’d talked with Bart Bellows about Kemp.
“Matt?”
He looked back at her. “Never mind. Are you okay?” he asked, then smiled. “Want me to help you get ready for bed?”
There was nothing Faith would like better than to have Matt stay with her. Her tummy hurt where the baby was pressing against her right side, and her headache was making her feel nauseated. It throbbed painfully with every heartbeat. She squeezed her eyes closed for a second.
“Faith? Are you hurting?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” She shooed him with her hands. “Go on and do your body guarding thing. I’m going to sleep.”
He searched her face, then nodded. “I’ll be up in a little while. I’ll look in on you.”
Matt left, and she heard his footsteps going down the stairs. It didn’t take her but a couple of minutes to wash and bandage her elbow. She changed into her nightgown and crawled under the covers.
She leaned back against the pillows and tried to relax. When she did, she felt the familiar ache in her tummy. She rubbed it. “Settle down, Li’l Bit,” she whispered. “Mommy’s head is hurting really badly. We need to go to sleep, okay?”
But she didn’t feel sleepy. She felt anxious. The throbbing in her head seemed to be spreading through her whole body. She could feel her pulse in her fingers and toes.
She wished Matt were here. It was so much easier to fall asleep when she knew he was on the couch in the living room.
Matt’s protective care and his concern about her were addicting. She loved that he worried about her, that he was determined to keep her safe. She loved that he teased her.
She loved everything about him, she thought sleepily. He was downstairs, and when he finished, he’d come up to her apartment and place himself between her and the door. Between her and danger.
How was she going to live without him once he was gone?
MATT FOUND SHERIFF HALE studying the floor of the
café as if the debris left there by the crowd would yield up its secrets if he stared long enough.
“Sheriff?”
Hale didn’t look up. “I was hoping to find a clue.” He chuckled wryly. “Hell, I was hoping to walk in here and see a baseball cap lying in the middle of the floor.” He glanced up at Matt. “That’d make our lives a lot easier.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Matt responded. “Any other news?”
Hale ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “The bodyguard’s wound was a through-and-through. We haven’t found the bullet yet.”
He nodded toward the lunch counter, behind which was the temporary stage the governor’s staff had built for the town hall meeting. “I’m betting it fell under the stage. The workers will be in tomorrow morning to dismantle it. I’m going to be right there. Maybe that bullet will give us a lead.”
Matt hoped so. “What else?”
“Not much else we can do. Fingerprints are out, considering the size of the crowd and what I know about Freedom. I’d guesstimate that less than half the population has ever been printed.”
“And of course nobody saw anything.”
“Not a thing. Moncel Jefferson, a senior in high school, was standing right in the doorway. He tells me that after the shot rang out a guy nearly ran him over getting out the door. Moncel says he grabbed the guy’s arm and asked him if he saw anything, but the guy jerked away and nearly knocked Moncel down.”
“Can Moncel describe him?” Matt asked hopefully, but the sheriff was already shaking his head.
“He said the man had on a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Said he thought it was blue. And jeans. That’s all.”
“That fits with what I remember. Did he mention the baseball cap?”
Hale sighed. “According to Moncel, he wasn’t wearing one, but he can’t remember the guy’s face. Said he was a white guy. Average looking. Tall.”
“Not much to go on,” Matt said.
“Nope,” the sheriff agreed.
Chapter Ten
Faith had a huge blood pressure cuff wrapped around her middle and the doctor was tightening it—tighter, tighter until she couldn’t breathe.
“Faith!”
She woke with a start. “Matt?” she gasped. She looked down at herself. There was nothing wrapped around her, yet she still felt the squeezing pain.
He took her hand and sat on the edge of her bed. “You were dreaming,” he said with a small smile.
Faith closed her eyes and moaned. She was used to her tummy hurting, but this was different. Her lower abdomen, her back, even her thighs hurt. She pushed up to a sitting position and moaned again.
Matt frowned at her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she answered irritably. “It just a pain. It’ll go away—” She gasped as the pain intensified. Now it felt more like a cramp.
“Come on. You’re in labor. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No. I told you—” Faith said between clenched teeth “—it will go away.” And it did. She collapsed back against the pillows and sighed. “See?”
But Matt didn’t look relieved. “How long has this been going on?” he asked.
“It hasn’t. I was dreaming.” But as she said the words, she realized the squeezing, cramping pain had happened before—a couple of times. She’d woken up, barely, then gone back to sleep.
“How far apart?”
“Stop it,” she said. “I’m not in labor,” she paused, embarrassed, but decided that she’d rather be a little bit embarrassed than be hauled off to the hospital for a false alarm. “My water hasn’t even broken yet.”
Matt didn’t bat an eye. He was obviously unimpressed by her statement. He looked at his watch. “Get dressed. I’m going downstairs to let Valerio know we’re going to the hospital.” He turned toward the door.
“Matt, don’t get him and Glo all worked up. These are not contractions.”
He turned back, and his dark eyes sparked with determination. “Get dressed, or I’ll carry you downstairs like that. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Faith stared at the back of his head until he disappeared through the door. She’d never been looked at like that, never been spoken to like that. She lay there for a moment, trying to decipher the look on his face and in his eyes.
There was determination and authority. but there was something else, too. It was something fierce and protective—almost primal.
If she weren’t huge and round and exhausted, she could believe Matt cared about her. But in the first place, she was huge and round and exhausted. And in the second place, she didn’t want him to care about her. At least that’s what she told herself. He was exactly the kind of man she didn’t need.
“So stop your fancying,” Faith could hear her grandmother say.
“Thanks, Gram,” she whispered. That’s all it was. Fancying. Dreaming. Playing “let’s pretend.”
She swung her legs off the bed and started to get up, but another deep ache began in her lower abdomen and back. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not yet, Li’l Bit. It’s not time.”
She flopped back down on the bed, huffing, just as Matt came back into the room. “Another contraction?” he asked and looked at his watch. “Eight minutes apart. We’d better get going.”
“Eight minutes? That’s impossible,” she panted. “I’m not in labor.”
Matt sat down beside her. “Faith, be quiet and listen to me. When my dad left, my mom was pregnant with my twin sisters. So trust me, I know all the signs. Plus while I was overseas, I had to deliver a baby for a woman in one of the villages we passed through.”
Faith stared at him in horror. “Well, you’re not delivering this one,” she cried. “Call Glo!”
“It’s okay. We’ve got time to get you to the hospital if we hurry.”
“No!” she panted. The very idea of Matt seeing her…“No! Get Glo! Now!”
Matt’s eyes widened. “Faith, don’t worry—”
“Glo!” she screamed. “Glo!”
“Okay!” Matt shot up off the bed, his eyes wide and panicked. “Okay. She ought to be getting here about now. I’ll get her.”
He whirled and headed for the door just as, to Faith’s relief, Glo appeared. She’d apparently rushed right up. She didn’t even have on her apron.
“Honey, what’s going on here?” she said, rushing to Faith. “Good golly! You’re about to have that baby.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” she snapped at Matt.
“I just…” he started.
“Get him out of here,” Faith cried, almost doubled over with a contraction. “I don’t care how many babies he’s delivered. He’s not going to deliver mine!”
She didn’t catch what Glo said to Matt, but she heard him clomping down the stairs. Glo found her a robe and shoes and somehow got her downstairs and into the backseat of her car and climbed in with her. Matt was in the driver’s seat.
As Matt burned rubber out of the café’s parking lot and headed toward Holy Cross Hospital, Faith’s contractions finally let up.
“Glo, thank God. You won’t leave me, will you?”
“No, honey. Of course not. I’ll be right there.”
“Oh, no! Glo! It’s Sunday! Who’s going to help Valerio with the after-church lunch crowd?” she wailed.
“You don’t worry about that. Matt’ll help Valerio,” Glo said sweetly. Then she poked Matt’s shoulder with a finger.
“Won’tcha, hon?”
MATT WAS EXHAUSTED, his damn leg hurt like a son of a bitch and the only thing he’d eaten all day was a couple of mouthfuls of cherry pie after the Sunday post-church lunch crowd thinned out. Taking quick measure of the café’s dining area, he figured he must have walked ten miles, if not more, taking orders, pouring coffee and bussing tables.
He already respected Faith for handling a business alone. From what he knew about her and her grandmother, he figured she couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty
-six. Now he was in total awe of her. She was the first one up every morning, and she closed the café every night. That made for a fifteen-hour day. And she was pregnant.
He picked up the last tableful of dirty dishes and wove his way through tables full of flowers and plants and baskets of baby things into the kitchen where Valerio was loading the industrial-sized dishwasher. “Aw, man,” Valerio said. “I thought we were done.”
Matt set the bin of dishes down with a groan. “It looks to me like you’re never done around here.”
“That’s the truth,” Molly said. She was sitting on a stool, polishing glasses with a snow-white cloth. Her hair was twisted up in a messy knot on top of her head, and she looked like she’d been up all night studying—or partying.
Valerio laughed. “That’s how it feels, too.” He turned on the dishwasher, then threw a towel across one shoulder and leaned against the counter.
“That was some crowd today, eh?” he said as he picked up his seemingly bottomless mug of coffee and took a swig.
“I thought it was just me, since I’m not used to working in a restaurant. I think I walked ten miles. This bum knee of mine is complaining.”
“Glo claims a full day here is at least fifteen miles,” Molly said.
Valerio nodded. “But no. This wasn’t a typical Sunday. I think everybody in town showed up to talk about the shooting and find out about Faith’s baby.”
“I’ll bet I was asked fifty times how she was doing and if she’d had the baby yet. And what’s with all the flowers and baskets and things?”
“You never lived in a small town?” Without waiting for Matt’s answer, Valerio went on. “Any time anything happens, everybody rallies around. Usually the casseroles and pies come out, too.”
Matt frowned. “Casseroles and pies?”
“When someone is sick or dies or has a baby, the people of Freedom gather round. They take care of their own. Only, this being a café, and Faith being the best pie maker in town, I guess they don’t want to bring food, so they all sent flowers and baskets.”
