by Mallory Kane
He saw the man in the blue baseball cap twice. Both times the cap was pulled down low over his eyes, but the second time, his head was lifted enough for Matt to see a black mustache. He rewound and watched again, pressing Pause just as the baseball cap came into view.
Matt scrutinized the images on the screen from super-close, from midrange and from the other side of the room, but no position made the image any clearer. The only thing it gained for him was to verify what he remembered. The man was wearing an ordinary blue long-sleeved shirt, another generic item, like the cap, that could easily be shed. He could have had a T-shirt on underneath that would completely change his appearance.
He let the disk run, hoping the camera had stayed on the crowd long enough to record the man actually shooting the gun.
It hadn’t. But Matt kept watching. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of the shooter after he’d dropped the cap. He’d give half a year’s salary to be able to identify the man who’d tried to kill Governor Lockhart.
FAITH HEARD KALEIGH WHIMPER softly. She opened her eyes and checked her bedside clock. Six o’clock! She’d slept for two hours. She hadn’t meant to nap more than a few minutes. Kaleigh would be wet and uncomfortable. Quickly, she got up and went over to the crib. Kaleigh was sleeping peacefully. Faith checked her for wetness, but she was dry, which was impossible after two hours, wasn’t it?
Had Matt changed her? He must have. What an amazing man he was. He knew all about babies. He’d even delivered one while he was serving in Iraq. And, although he’d shown up in town from who-knew-where for a temporary construction job, as soon as the governor announced that she wanted to hold a town hall meeting in Freedom, he’d gotten involved in the security details, working with the sheriff. What else was there about him that she didn’t know?
That thought, which should have worried her, given her and her mother’s histories with handsome, charming drifters, actually warmed her. Getting to know more about Matt Soarez was something she’d love to do. As usual, the practical, rational side of her brain rose up to say, No, you do not want or need to know more about him.
This time though, her rational side didn’t win. This time she allowed herself a few minutes to consider what life would be like with Matt. If he were what he said he was, just an itinerant worker in town for a job, then she should turn and run in the opposite direction. But if he was what he appeared to be maybe this time her heart wasn’t wrong. Maybe this time she could have her happy ending.
Lost in thought, she wandered into the living room.
Matt’s head turned, then he rose from the rocking chair. When his gaze met hers, his whole face lit up—or maybe it was a trick of the light. “Faith, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”
She smiled. “Yes, I should. Specific instructions from my obstetrician. He wants me sitting up and walking. And by the way, not napping for two hours in the middle of the day.”
“You were exhausted. You needed the sleep.”
“I didn’t need that much sleep. Did you change her?”
“Yep. I told you I’m really good with newborns. I can do everything except feed ’em.” He grinned, then blushed.
Faith felt her own cheeks heat up at the joke. Then dismay flooded her. “I didn’t hear her crying. Oh, how am I going to take care of her if I don’t wake up when she cries?”
“Hey,” Matt said, his grin fading to a warm smile, “as soon as I heard her moving around, I checked on her. She barely whimpered. I got her changed and then we rocked and watched some TV together until she went back to sleep. She’s a good baby.”
She nodded. “Thank you for taking care of her. I was pretty tired.” She glanced at the TV. “What are you watching?”
“The networks’ footage of the town hall meeting.”
“Oh,” she said. “I see. There’s the governor.” The picture on the TV screen was of a side shot of Lila Lockhart. She’d grabbed the microphone and come out from behind the podium to answer a woman’s question.
“I remember this,” she said, her heart pounding in reaction and memory. “Right after she stepped out in front of the podium, the guy shot at her.”
Matt sent her a thoughtful look and paused the TV. “That’s right. He waited until she’d come out from behind the lectern. Do you remember anything else specific?”
“No. I was terrified that I was going to get trampled by the crowd.”
“You almost did. I should have been more careful about where I let you stand. If you hadn’t gotten pushed into the wall by the governor’s bodyguards, you might not have gone into labor.”
Faith smiled. “Everything turned out okay, and from what a lot of the ladies in town tell me, I had a very easy delivery. So maybe at least that part of what happened was for the best.”
Matt’s dark eyes softened. “Maybe so. I’m sure glad I got to meet Kaleigh. If you’d gone full term, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
“Wouldn’t be here?” His seemingly offhand comment almost stole her breath. “Are you? You’re not leaving, are you?” she asked quickly.
“Not anytime soon,” he answered, “but I have to follow the job.”
“Oh, no. I know. Of course you do.” Faith tried as hard as she could to make her voice sound young and happy and carefree. From the look on Matt’s face, she’d failed. “You, uh, don’t know where you’ll go from here, then?”
Matt shook his head and turned his gaze back to the TV. He pressed Play.
She shouldn’t have asked that. For one thing, it was none of her business. She scrambled for something to say. “Kaleigh’s sleeping a lot. Do you think she’s okay?”
He chuckled. “Be glad she’s sleeping. Pretty soon you’ll be up at all hours feeding her and walking the floor with her when she has a tummy ache.”
His expression turned serious, and he reached out and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Stop worrying so much,” he said softly. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, Faith. Trust me. I’m very good at reading people.”
Can you read this? Faith thought. She smiled shyly and touched his hand, which was still lingering over the strand of hair he’d tucked.
Matt’s fingers slid around the back of her neck, and he leaned down and kissed her, at first sweetly. But after a couple of seconds, his tongue touched her lips, and with a gasp, she parted them and closed her eyes. Matt’s head dipped lower and he deepened the kiss.
Faith’s body responded, surprising her. She’d wanted this, but she hadn’t expected her sore, achy body to have such feelings as were coursing through her now.
He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms tenderly around her, and kept on kissing her. Then he traced the line of her jaw with his lips, searching for and finding her earlobe and nipping at it teasingly.
Her legs went weak, and a sweet, intense throbbing began deep within her. She craned her neck backward and pressed her full breasts against his chest.
He brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her long and thoroughly, his tongue sensually imitating the act of love.
Faith felt as if he’d stolen her breath totally. But his kisses were like breath to her—like life. She could survive as long as he kept kissing her.
Matt drew back, looking her in the eye, searching for something she couldn’t identify. She stood on tiptoes and sought his mouth again. He pulled her to him, pressing her length against his. She felt his erection brush against her and felt her insides contract in a sudden spurt of desire.
“Mmm,” she moaned, and Matt stopped.
“Did I hurt you?” he said, his brow furrowed.
“I’m just still sore,” she whispered, shy about having to explain her accidental moan of pain.
She ducked her head and looked away, pressing her temple against his shoulder. Her gaze lit on the TV.
“Oh, my God!” she cried, pushing away from him.
Matt tensed and grabbed her shoulders. “Faith? What is it?”
She pointed at the screen. “I just remembered. I thought
I’d seen Rory in all the chaos, but then the bodyguards were rushing Governor Lockhart out and trying to help the guard that was shot, and I got pushed and I forgot all about him. Why would he be at the town hall meeting?”
“When did you first see him?”
Faith thought about it. “I think it was right after Henry yelled liar. Right about the time the gunshot rang out.”
Within a split second, Matt had grabbed the remote and stopped the DVD. “Why did you think it was Stockett?” he asked.
Faith stared at the screen, which showed the governor frozen in time just as she leaned forward, her gaze on a man in the third row who was talking.
Tearing her gaze away from the film footage, she closed her eyes. “He was toward the back. He had on a blue shirt and a baseball cap.”
Matt pressed Rewind, then started it again. “Okay. Watch and tell me when you spot him.”
Faith watched. The camera panned the crowd, and then suddenly it wavered and people began ducking and shouting and pushing. Faith scanned the faces. Where was Rory? She’d been sure she’d seen him.
“Well?” Matt asked, a serious note in his voice.
“No. Maybe I was wrong. It was just a glimpse, and everything happened so fast once the gun went off. Maybe you should rewind a little further, back around the time Henry Kemp yelled liar.”
Matt rewound again.
Faith moved closer to the TV and watched intently. “There! Now Play.”
She saw the figure that she’d thought was Rory. “That’s why I saw him. He was standing behind Henry,” she said, frowning at the screen. “But I don’t know. Maybe it’s not him. That guy looks like he has a mustache.”
Matt’s whole body went tense. “Where, Faith? Where is he?” He held out the remote. “You drive. Zero in on him.”
Faith took the remote and worked the picture back and forth until she pinpointed the very instant Rory first appeared on the screen. “See? Right there?” She pointed, touching the screen with a finger. “He has a birthmark—a white patch of hair just behind his left ear.”
Matt leaned forward, too, frowning. “I don’t remember a white patch.”
“It’s right there.” She touched the screen behind his ear. “You didn’t notice it when you two met at the café or when you fought in the alley?”
Matt shook his head. “Go back, just a touch.”
Faith manipulated the remote control buttons.
“Damn it.”
Faith could feel the waves of tension coming from Matt. It wasn’t much of a leap to figure out that he thought Rory could be the shooter. “What’s wrong? You think Rory did it, don’t you?”
Matt gave a quick shake of his head. “I don’t know. It’s possible. But I can’t identify that man you’re pointing out as Rory Stockett. Granted, I’ve only seen him twice. And what you’re calling a white patch in his hair, well, I can’t see that either.” He sighed. “I do see the mustache though, so I think you’ve spotted our shooter. The problem now is trying to make a positive ID, not to mention finding Stockett.”
Faith swallowed hard. “Listen, Matt. I do not want to know that my baby’s father may have tried to kill the governor, but I’m almost one hundred percent sure that that is Rory Stockett. The only reason it’s not a full hundred percent is because of the mustache.”
Matt narrowed his gaze, searching her face. She gave him back look for look until she heard Kaleigh fussing.
“She’s hungry. I’ve got to feed her.”
Matt nodded. “I need to show this to the sheriff, then I suspect we’ll be taking it into Amarillo to see if their forensic photography department can clear up the picture enough to make a positive ID.” He took back the remote as Faith went to pick up Kaleigh.
When she came back into the room, he had the disks in a plastic bag and was headed for the door.
“Matt?” she said tentatively.
He turned.
“I’ll do anything I can to help. I have no illusions about Rory.”
Matt’s wide mouth was grim. “Have you got any pictures of him?”
She shook her head. “No. He never liked having his picture taken.”
Matt’s expression telegraphed his opinion of why that was.
“Well, then, I’m pretty sure you’re going to have to describe him to a police artist. I’ll get Sheriff Hale to set that up.”
Faith nodded as she patted Kaleigh’s back, but Kaleigh wasn’t satisfied with patting. She was hungry, and she told Faith so in the only way she knew how—by crying.
“Matt?” Faith said again, over Kaleigh’s cries. “I hope you—” she stopped. Whatever she’d thought about saying, she couldn’t. So she ended lamely, “You’ll let me know, won’t you? About Rory?”
Matt’s chin lifted, and one corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It would be my pleasure to lock up your boyfriend for this shooting.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was the next afternoon before Matt and Sheriff Hale could see Bart Bellows to update him on the shooting.
Bellows sat behind his desk and scrutinized the enlarged photo of the cartridge’s headstamp. “It does look like military issue. What about the gun?”
“My chief deputy, Jeff Appleton, found it yesterday afternoon. He and my other deputies have been Dumpster diving ever since Saturday night.”
Matt had already heard about the gun from the sheriff, but he was still excited about the find. If the shooter had tossed it down a storm drain or found a pond or lake to throw it into, they might never have retrieved it.
“What Appleton found was a 9 mm Beretta,” the sheriff told Bellows. “It was wrapped in a blue shirt, the kind that can be bought anywhere. No fingerprints. I’ve sent the weapon and the shirt by courier to the forensics lab in Amarillo to see if the gun and bullet’s markings are the same.”
“Good. I’ll let the commissioner know and ask him to make that top priority. He’s as concerned about the governor’s safety as we are.” Bellows frowned. “Did you see anything on the shirt? Hairs? Sweat?”
Hale shook his head. “I hope the lab can pick up some thing.”
Bellows turned his attention to Matt. It would be pushing it to say he was amused, but there was a hint of a twinkle in his eye. “You’re about to burst, son. What’s your news?”
Matt took a deep breath. “We may have footage of the shooter, sir.”
Bellows didn’t speak. He waited for Matt to go on.
“Faith—Ms. Scott—thought she caught a glimpse of Rory Stockett right after the shooting.” Matt paused when he saw Bellows’s eyebrows go up.
“Well? Go on,” Bellows said. “How does Ms. Scott’s baby daddy figure into all this?”
Matt explained. “She was watching the footage of the meeting with me. She pointed out the man she believes is Stockett. He’s not wearing a baseball cap, so if he’s the shooter, he’d already dropped it by then. But he does seem to have a mustache, which would have to be false. He didn’t have one the other day.”
“So she believes the man on the tape is Stockett? If she was involved with him and she’s not sure it’s him, how does that help us?” Bellows asked.
Matt sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s one more thing, sir. Stockett has a birthmark, a white patch of hair behind his left ear. Ms. Scott believes she can see the white patch on the mustached man on the disk.”
Bellows leaned back in his wheelchair and tented his fingers. “Where’s that footage?” he asked.
“We’ve sent the original disk the network gave us to Amarillo, to see if the shot of the man can be enlarged and enhanced. But we have a copy if you’d like to see it.”
“Bah,” Bellows said. “I have no reason to look at a grainy picture of a man who might or might not be our shooter. That’s why I hire professionals. What’s your next move, Sheriff?”
Hale scratched his chin. “We’ve put out an APB on Stockett. The only photo we have of him is the DM
V photo for his driver’s license. But his license is up for renewal, so that picture is almost six years old.”
“You mean Faith Scott doesn’t have a picture of him?” Bellows asked Matt.
“No, sir. Apparently Stockett didn’t like to have his picture taken.”
“Makes sense.” He turned back to Hale. “So you’ve notified airports, bus stations, all that?”
Hale nodded. “I doubt it’s going to do any good. I’m betting he’s laying low right around here somewhere.”
“What about the girl? Ten to one she knows how to contact him.”
“No, sir,” Matt protested. “She doesn’t want anything to do with him.”
Bellows looked Matt square in the eye. “He’s the father of her baby, son.”
Matt lowered his gaze. Bellows was right. Matt could believe anything he wanted about Faith, but he’d only known her for a matter of days. In reality, he had no idea if she knew how to contact Stockett. It occurred to him that he hadn’t asked her.
“Have you questioned her?” Bellows asked the sheriff, as if he’d read Matt’s mind.
“She’s working with a forensic artist who’s using the DMV shot plus her description to get a current likeness of him.”
“Get her in for questioning. I’ll guarantee you she knows something.”
“She just had a baby, sir,” Matt objected before he could stop himself. He should have bitten his tongue. His number one priority was Governor Lockhart’s safety, not Faith’s.
Bellows pinned him with his sharp eyes. “I’m aware of that, but this is a matter of life and death for Lila Lockhart. She needs to be questioned.”
It took a lot of determination for Matt not to duck his head. “Yes, sir.”
“And not by you, Bernie. I’ll have the chief of police in Amarillo send a policewoman to question Ms. Scott. Meanwhile—” Bellows turned back to Matt, pointing a finger at him “—you contact that muscle head who collected on her loan. Somebody knows where Stockett is. If he’s the one who pulled that trigger, I want him behind bars now!”
