by Karen Cote'
* * * *
When the silence stretched into minutes, Lily shot a glance to the man across from her. There was nothing to give away his expression and though she’d expected it, disappointment hit hard and low.
“The police in Kansas City didn’t believe me either, why should I expect you to?”
“Did I say I didn’t believe you?”
“Do you?” she asked, looking desperately into his features.
He drew his words out slowly. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I don’t think you’re lying.”
Her smile was wry. “What am I supposed to gather from that?”
“I don’t know, but neither I nor my friends are big fans of the District Attorney.”
Lily bit her lip. He may not flat-out believe her, but at least that sounded encouraging.
Maybe there was hope yet. “Will your report of the accident name-names?”
“Yes,” he said and her heart sank. “However, we still haven’t revisited our discussion on whose fault the accident was.” Humor lit a glow in his eyes and Lily’s breath caught at the crystal beauty. “And given the information you’ve provided today, your preoccupation is beginning to look a little more credible than a story about some worm. Since I don’t have all the facts just yet I can hold off on writing my report for now.”
Hope, tentative and gradual, warmed Lily’s insides. “Really?”
He nodded and something flickered behind the blue depths. It was gone before she could identify it.
When he began to rise from his chair, Lily remembered something.
“Wait.” It checked his movement and she hesitated before asking, “I saw some type of flashlight behind my house late last night. Do you think it could’ve been someone hunting?”
He frowned. “Hunting around the lake community is against the law. Are you sure?”
She nodded and then more firmly said, “Yes.”
He thought for a moment, but then shook his head. “It might’ve been kids.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Which isn’t typical, but you never know. I’ll check into it.”
He stood up then and indicated that Lily do the same.
“One last thing.” This time he stalled her. “You said the person who called you a couple of nights ago might’ve been one of the teens your brother was helping. Do you have any idea which one?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Lily said, pushing against the arms of the chair as she rose. “I’d hate to ask the wrong person and expose that someone talked.”
His look was grim. “We can’t have that. Do you have a number where I can contact you?”
Lily rattled off her cell number and he leaned down and scribbled it on a day planner.
She was turning away, but stopped short at an object on his desk. He must have seen her startled expression.
“Something wrong?”
“Your calculator,” she gestured toward it, somewhat dumbstruck.
His smile was rueful. “I know. It’s an old dinosaur of technology, but it belonged to my mother. She passed away several years ago. I suppose it carries more sentiment than usefulness.”
He motioned her forward, but Lily’s distraction trailed her steps to the door. As she reached for the knob, a knock from the other side startled her backward. She landed against the hard immovable object behind her and a muscular arm automatically reached around her waist. Fresh woodsy pine scent tickled Lily’s nose as seconds passed with neither one moving. At the second knock, he muttered under his breath and set her gently aside to open the door.
The dragon-lady Lily had met earlier looked extremely annoyed.
“What took you so long?” she demanded.
The sheriff ignored her and addressed Lily.
“I’ll let you know before I file the report.”
Lily nodded, but was still dazed as she headed out to her car. Between butting-up against the sheriff and the disturbing sight of the calculator, Lily’s equilibrium was askew. It didn’t help that the temperature outside seemed cool compared to the heat still emanating up her backside.
And what about that calculator? Could Jerry be reaching out to her from the grave? Lily had never been superstitious, but how coincidental was it for the numbers on the calculator to be rubbed off except the three and seven? Better still, if she did believe in all that mumbo-jumbo, did the number thirty-seven this time represent friend or foe?
Chapter Four
Lust at first sight. That’s it. Plain and simple. Nothing more than that. Nada.
Jet threw his head back against the soft black leather and stared at a crack in the ceiling. The very scent of Lily remained in the small cramped office and he closed his eyes against the heady allure.
Anything outside of lust was out of the question. He’d made that promise to himself the day Celeste amputated his trust and eviscerated his belief system. So why did the protective peace in which he’d encased his emotions now seem in jeopardy? Did Lily Delaney’s cry for help threaten his self-preservation? It shouldn’t, but it did.
Hell, he wasn’t sure she needed protection. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, exactly. But how far would Capriccio go in light of the evidence against him? There was no proof of foul play outside of a kid who couldn’t be identified. What if the kid hadn’t been telling the truth? Better yet, who’d believe a kid with a previous drug problem over an elected official such as the District Attorney?
“If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going out on patrol.”
Mark stood in the doorway and Jet welcomed the distraction and straightened in his chair.
“I need you to add Dr. Delaney’s house to your route for the next few days.”
Mark raised his brows. “Someone bothering Lily?”
The familiarity struck a nerve. “Dr. Delaney,” Jet emphasized the more formal address, “thought she saw a light of some sort behind her house last night. I doubt it’s anything, but include her on your watch just in case.”
Mark nodded, his eyes twinkling. “And just when I thought the night was going to be boring.”
A zing of jealousy ricocheted in his abdomen, but the buzzing of his phone waylaid his response.
“Better get that, boss,” Mark winked and with an infuriating wave, sauntered out.
Jet’s tone was curt when he answered the phone.
“So you’re not dead?” The phone leaked sarcasm from his brother-in-law and best friend.
“No, Don,” Jet let out a breath, still stinging with irritation caused by his deputy. “Just a little banged up.”
“A little banged up?” Don challenged. “Cheryl came home last night upset at having to stitch you up.”
Jet’s sister was a tough nurse. She’d been mildly perturbed the night before, but had been fine when he’d left the hospital. It was obvious where the root of this concern stemmed from.
“Calm down, Donna,” Jet teased. “Take a bubble bath, grab some Bon Bons and turn on your favorite soap opera. I’ll be over later with some tissues.”
“Asshole,” Don muttered.
Jet relented and cut his friend some slack. In a reversed role, he’d be just as concerned.
“I’m fine, Don,” Jet reassured. “So stop acting like a mother hen.”
“Can’t I at least get the right gender here?” Don growled although his tone was less tense. “As a matter of fact there’s another reason I’m calling. Apparently, Rachel asked Cheryl about another get-together at the cabin next weekend.”
A smile inched across Jet’s face at the memory of the last get-together. “Nice girl.”
“Nice, huh?” Don’s snicker widened Jet’s grin. “If your sister suspected half of what y’all did in the room next to us, she wouldn’t be as eager to get you two back together.”
It would serve Cheryl right. She’d tried her hand at a little matchmaking. At first, Jet had been resistant. But far from the intended serious hook-up, the time with Rachel had been casual, hot and most of all, uncomplicated
. It also reminded him how long it’d been since he’d enjoyed that particular pleasure. He pulled her features to mind, but instead of the perky brown-haired woman he remembered, a blonde thick mane with green eyes clouded the vision. He cursed under his breath.
“Let’s do it,” Jet said, making a decision. He’d handle the Delaney situation and if nothing else, keep her whereabouts under the radar until she could stabilize her life and get out of his.
* * * *
The light barely lit up the large basement and Lily descended the stairs and mentally rolled up her sleeves.
On the last step, an unmistakable sticky substance latched onto her hair and she squealed, her arms going up in protective dismay. Her efforts vibrated the large brown spider in what was once a perfect octagonal web. Lily sprinted forward and shuddered in disgust while slapping her hands over her face and hair. She glanced up just in time to see the creepy-crawler performing a rapid acrobatic climb toward the ceiling.
She shivered again, albeit with some relief. If she hadn’t verified that thing’s whereabouts, she’d be rushing upstairs right now and pouring a can of bug spray over her hair. She drew in a shaky breath and suddenly the task ahead seemed insurmountable. It wouldn’t cost much to hire someone else to finish cleaning this part of the house.
“Grow up, Miss Muffet,” she muttered. “You know the basement’s not the problem.”
It’s the waiting.
After an entire week, she was no further ahead now in proving Anthony’s guilt than before. Lily hadn’t known what to expect, but not this. In the back of her mind, she’d believed someone would investigate Anthony. No one had. Nor was there any indication of intent to do so.
Her dilemma remained in what to do next. Keep a low profile, of course, but for how long? Every passing day lessened her ability to gain traction on clearing Jerry’s name. It didn’t lessen the threat of Anthony though, as proven by Lily’s call to her landlord. He’d said the vandalism done to her apartment must’ve been random. Right. Then again, proof wasn’t growing on trees these days.
She grudgingly had to thank Sheriff Walker; although it was doubtful he’d believed her claims about Jerry. At least he’d delayed his report even if there was little else he could do.
Tiny fingers skipped along her spine at the remembered husky baritone when he’d checked in with a follow up. It’d been a simple phone call for goodness sakes. How old was she? Twelve?
Taking the broom, Lily set about alleviating her frustration through physical methods. An hour later, she glanced down and grimaced at the dust on her metallic blue running shorts. Goody, she’d get to do laundry after finishing here. Of course, she could laze around on the deck some more. The success of her tan was reaching competition levels.
She was bending down to scoop the last of the dust into the dustpan when brightness shone from the previously darkened window above her. Perplexed, she cocked her head back. She squinted to discern the object through the frosted glass. Someone’s legs?
Anthony! She shoved her body forward, smashing her cheek against the cold concrete wall. Her heart accelerated through her tank top as she tried to recall the location of the basement window from the outside. There hadn’t been one. Is this another funky room?
The legs moved again and she bit back a yelp and huddled closer into the wall, praying the glass too obscure to see through. Seconds passed and Lily knew she had to act. Her hand shook as she grappled for the cell phone at her waist and dialed 911. A male voice answered.
She kept the volume of her voice low. “This is Lily Delaney at 277 Main and someone’s in my house.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to speak up,” the man said. “Did you say someone broke into your house?”
“Yes,” Lily whispered a little louder and cast a furtive glance above her.
“Where are you?” he asked again and frustration battled with fear.
‘It’s 277 Main,” she clarified. “Please hurry.”
“Got it. Is the intruder still there?” he asked.
“Yes. Please hurry,” she pleaded again.
“Ma’am hang in there and don’t….We’ll…someone…there…possible…”
Lily’s horror increased as the cell phone broke up.
“Hello, are you there? Please answer,” she rasped, but the call had disconnected.
Blowing in and out to keep her breath even, she peeked up at the window. Dark again. What did that mean?
Too petrified to move, after what seemed an eternity, but could only be minutes, she heard a faint shouting. Pounding on the front door followed. She finally detected the words, Sheriff’s Department, and galvanized into action. In reckless abandon, she raced up the stairs to the front door. Seeing the uniform through the glass, Lily yanked open the door and fell headlong into the arms of the man on the other side.
Her perpetual motion sent them both careening into the side of the front stoop archway, narrowly avoiding toppling them over the side. The sheriff cursed, but Lily didn’t care as she clung to his big hard body. He held her for a moment and then pushed her to arm’s length.
“Lily,” he demanded in a rough voice. “What happened? Are you hurt? You said someone broke in. Were you attacked?”
She shook her head. “H-he was by the window.”
Jet moved her aside and entered the house. She followed on trembling legs.
“Which window?” he asked and pointed at the bay window. “This one?”
“No, downstairs in the basement.”
“He was in your basement?” he asked, but she shook her head again.
“No, I was in the basement.”
His face took on an exasperated look and Lily gathered herself together.
“He broke into a room on the other side of the basement.”
“Which way to the basement?” he asked, already moving.
She gestured and he strode away while she collapsed against the wall. Soon after, the French doors off the sitting room opened.
Lily ticked off the minutes before he called out to her. On knees still weak, she went to where he was standing on the deck by the French doors.
“Come on, I want to show you something.”
Warily she hesitated.
“It’s alright, whoever it was is gone,” he reassured.
With lips trembling, she followed him out the door. He led her down the stairs and to the yard below, but he didn’t stop there. She frowned as he continued underneath the patio deck to an opened door hidden from view.
“Did you know this room was here?” He queried.
She shook her head, advancing to the small room behind it. It was barely over six feet in height, forcing Jet to angle his head as he entered. Lily, not hampered by height restriction, followed into a small compact space made up of concrete walls. The only concession to the concrete was a small narrow window angling three feet from the floor. It was as she bent down to peer through it that she saw the dim light in the basement only barely visible.
She turned to him with puzzled eyes.
“Was he trying to break through this tiny window to the basement?”
The improbability was evident and the sheriff let the silence speak its own answer.
He motioned to her and they both stepped out of the cramped room. The sheriff’s presence and bright sunshine made what had seemed a threat before much less scary now. The idea it had been Anthony also appeared implausible. Not his style. Then she remembered the flashlight incident and brought it up.
“Maybe it’s the same person,” she offered.
He didn’t respond as he checked around the outside of the house, stopping on occasion to inspect the ground where the grass had worn. He went deeper into the backyard before coming back.
“The ground is too hard to give up any tracks.”
Silence stretched for a moment before Jet suggested they get out of the heat. They returned to the kitchen and he leaned against the counter, folding his arms.
“You know Lily, that
door doesn’t latch. It’s possible an animal got in and that’s what you saw.”
“An animal wasn’t holding the flashlight the other night. Besides, I know what human legs look like.”
“Are you sure?” Jet was skeptical. “The basement window is burlap glass. It would be difficult to distinguish any shapes through it.”
“I don’t need a See-N-Say to tell an animal from a human.” Her tone sounded waspish even to her own ears.
“I didn’t say you did. However,” he began and then broke off.
“However, what?” she prompted, but his expression made her suspicious.
He hesitated and then shrugged. “You’ve been through a lot this past week. It’s understandable anyone in your position could make that mistake.”
“My position?” Lily’s eyes narrowed “What position is that, Sheriff?”
His look of discomfort intensified her irritation.
“That I’m imagining things? That I’m paranoid?” she asked. “That this and everything else I’ve told you is all in my head?”
A muscle flexed in his cheek, but he didn’t take the bait. “I’m only saying we don’t get a lot of home invasions around here.”
Seeing the way this was going, Lily crossed her arms over her chest.
“Did you even try to find out anything about Anthony? Or like everyone else, you flat out don’t believe me about Jerry?”
“Lily,” he began.
“Who told you, you could call me Lily?” she lashed out, stepping forward. “I don’t recall giving you permission to do that, Sheriff Walker.”
An ominous silence followed. A moment later, Jet drew in a deep breath and then released it.
“I’m on duty all night. I’ll keep an eye on your house, but call if you see or hear anything else.”
He turned to leave, but the pacifying tone and dismissal hit a raw nerve in Lily.
“You’re in the middle of a crime scene now and can’t find anything,” she said, her tone belligerent. “My guess is you couldn’t find something if it bit you in the ass.”
His expression turned to granite. “Are we back to my detective skills again?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
