by Terri Reed
“Lord, You are in control. Help us.”
When he arrived at the door, his blood froze.
Attached to the door with black electrical tape were three pictures. Him, asleep in his cruiser. Melanie, out like a light on the couch. Except in this picture, her face was visible.
The third picture showed Jace and Melanie together as they stared at the mannequin the night before. His muscles bunched and a spasm of rage shot through his gut as he remembered Melanie’s terror. Someone was playing a game, all right. Jace didn’t intend to let them win.
He ran back to the car and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and a sealable bag from the glove box. Pulling out his cell phone, he took several pictures of the doorway for evidence and sent them in an attachment to Paul. Then, working quickly, he used his pocketknife to scrape the tape holding the pictures off the door. Pulling the pictures free, he placed them in the bag, sealed it and then slipped it into his coat pocket.
He realized he could procrastinate no longer. The unmistakable sounds of someone moving about inside told him Mel was awake. Reluctantly, he raised his fist and rapped on the door.
FIVE
Melanie opened her eyes to see the sun shining in on the floor. She bounded from the couch to the window. Peering outside, she felt relief bubble inside. Everything looked normal. Nothing appeared disturbed, and she could see the cruiser parked in the driveway. It was easier to be brave in the daylight. She squinted her eyes. Huh. The car was empty. Where was Jace? A firm knock answered that question. Momentarily forgetting caution, she ran to the front door and threw it open. Only to be met by his fierce scowl.
“What?” she demanded, feeling defensive.
“Did you even check to make sure it was me?”
“Well, of course it was you!”
“No ‘of course’ about it.” Jace stepped into the room. Feeling crowded, Mel retreated a step. He followed her. He bent, bringing his face closer to hers. “From now on, you check. I don’t care who you think is on the other side. Check. Clear?”
Mel nodded, resisting the urge to salute. Now would have been a good time to have a witty answer. Nothing came to mind, though.
She cleared her throat.
“I was getting ready to fix breakfast. Are you hungry?”
His stomach gurgled loudly before he could answer. The tension broke and he grinned. Her breath caught in her throat. When he smiled like that, he seemed to shed the hard shell.
“I don’t think I need to answer,” he joked. She rolled her eyes. “I’m feeling rather rank. I should clean up first. Okay if I grab my bag and take a shower first?”
“No, go right ahead. The bathroom’s upstairs, first door on the right.”
“Right. I’ll be back.” He returned a minute later, an army duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He shut the door and latched the dead bolt. “If you hear or see anything, you come and get me. I’m serious. I wouldn’t even leave to shower, but the chief would expect me to respect the uniform.”
She breathed a sigh of relief after he left. She felt really stupid for forgetting to check who was outside. Mistakes like that could be disastrous.
Realizing she was still in the clothes she had fallen asleep in, Melanie ran to her bedroom. Her shoulders tensed as she stood in her doorway. Don’t be ridiculous, Mel. No one is here but Jace. Forcing herself to move, she threw on some clothes. As she was running a brush through her hair, she allowed her mind to wander over the events of the past twenty-four hours. Who could possibly hate her that much?
She shook herself out of her reverie. Breakfast. She had a hungry man to feed. She meandered into the kitchen and poked around the refrigerator to see if Aunt Sarah had anything around for breakfast. “Aha!” she cried as she pulled out the ingredients to make a hash brown casserole. Within minutes, it was in the oven baking.
While it baked, she settled down at the kitchen table for her morning devotions. Knowing they would be interrupted at any minute, she tried to make the most of the time she had. Grabbing her Bible and her journal, she sat at the table with one leg hooked beneath the other. She alternated between reading the Bible before her and writing.
The prison chaplain who had led her to the Lord had encouraged her to keep a prayer journal. It had become part of her daily routine over the past three years. She had found that journaling while praying helped her organize her thoughts. Plus, she had often found that if she read back over previous entries, she could see the hand of God at work. It was a technique she had seen Aunt Sarah use throughout her teen years. She hadn’t appreciated those silent lessons then, but she was thankful for them now.
A voice floated down the stairs to her. Jace apparently liked to sing in the shower. She snickered, then slapped a hand over her mouth as giggles continued to erupt. He sounded like a wounded frog. Who would have thought that the competent Lieutenant Tucker, so skilled and confident in so many other ways, couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket? It was endearing. He tried for a high note. Missed. It was a good thing he didn’t sing in the car.
The water shut off. Thankfully, so did the singing. Ten minutes later, Jace appeared in the kitchen. He stopped next to the table, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.
“Breakfast is almost…”
Jace held up a hand to halt her speech, his eyes still closed.
“Please, I’m busy.” He inhaled again. “Man, something smells good.”
“Can I speak now?”
He opened one eye. “Okay.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it when she realized she had no idea what she wanted to say. The intimacy of the situation made her feel awkward. Although she trusted Jace to keep her safe, he was not someone she wanted herself to grow attracted to. It was kinda hard to forget that he had been the person to send her to jail. But even though she knew he still believed in her guilt, he had truly gone out of his way to keep her safe for the past day.
When he opened his other eye and their eyes met, her breath caught. She used to scoff whenever books said silly things like “electricity zinged between them.” Now she understood what that meant.
The buzzer on the oven broke the mood. Laughing nervously, she stood up to get the casserole out. Jace walked over and filled the two coffee mugs sitting on the counter.
“Cream’s in the fridge. Sugar’s there…on the counter.” She jerked her chin in the general direction.
Soon they were eating breakfast. The moment he forked a tasty bite into his mouth, Jace groaned. “This is fantastic.”
“Better than your mom makes?” she teased.
Jace looked around as if making sure they were alone. “Don’t you dare repeat this,” he confided, “but my mom can’t make toast.”
Mel choked on her food as a laugh caught her by surprise.
“You’re making that up!” she accused.
“Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in a mock Scout salute.
“Hmm. Were you ever a Scout?”
“No. But it’s still true. My dad was the cook in the family. When he died, my two sisters and I decided we had to learn to cook to survive.”
Melanie’s expression was sympathetic. “How old were you?”
“I was fifteen. The oldest.”
“And your sisters?”
In a flash, the mood changed. The open expression on his face changed, became distant. He broke eye contact with her and focused intently on his food.
“Jace?”
He shrugged, still not meeting her eyes.
Mel watched in astonishment as the playful man eating with her disappeared, leaving a cold, silent stranger. What on earth had happened? Clearly, his family was an off-limits topic. He’d brought them up, though, not her.
Maybe it was just as well that he’d turned cold. She needed the reminder that they weren’t friends—that she shouldn’t trust him. She knew some men could turn on you without warning. Especially charming men, like her father. And Seth. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? Setting her mouth i
n a mutinous line, she finished her meal quickly, then stood and started clearing the table. When he rose to assist her, she raised an imperious hand to stall him.
“I am able to clear the table myself, Lieutenant Tucker. Perhaps you have some phone calls to make.” Although her words were polite, her tone was cold enough to freeze the coffee in their mugs. She forced her shoulders back in a rigid stance. It hurt that he had shut her out so completely, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much.
His stupefied expression was almost comical. He took a step toward her, his hand raised as if he might touch her.
She stepped back.
“Fine,” he snapped. “I need to call my chief, anyway.”
*
Jace stalked out of the kitchen. In the living room, he pulled out his phone and tried to call Paul. When he got his voice mail, he left a brief message. As he hit End, his eyes moved to the kitchen door. His stomach turned as he remembered his abrupt conversation with Melanie. Well, he had handled that well. Disgust welled up within him. Not disgust with Melanie. With himself. He had hurt her. He knew he had, even though she had retreated back behind her protective shell. He didn’t blame her. But he wasn’t ready to explain himself.
How could he tell her about Ellie? Or the agony his family had suffered? That information was too personal. He had to remember that regardless of what the current situation was, Melanie Swanson was a convict—a killer. It would be wrong to share Ellie with her. Just thinking of his sweet baby sister made his chest hurt. He started to rub his chest, then shoved his fist into his pocket when he realized what he was doing.
His hand brushed against the pictures. Unbelievable. He had actually forgotten about them. Now was as good a time as any to show them to Melanie. His determined steps echoed on the hardwood. The minute he stopped in the kitchen door, guilt crept upon him. She had been crying. There were no tears now, but her eyes were red and slightly puffy. What kind of guy was he? Making her cry after yesterday’s events.
Seriously not cool.
Unfortunately, he had no clue how to deal with tears.
So he didn’t. Instead, he plunked himself down at the table with a single word, said in a decidedly grumpy voice.
“Sorry.”
Smooth. Yep. That was him.
Melanie stared at him for long moment. Then nodded and joined him at the table.
“I meant to tell you about these first thing, but I got distracted.” Jace pulled the pictures out of his pocket and laid them on the table. Through the plastic bag, they could see the picture of them embracing. It was slightly blurry due to the bag, but there was no doubt who was in the picture.
“Where…where did you get these?” Melanie asked in a trembling voice.
He winced. He wished he could shield her, but knew any sort of sugarcoating would only make a bad situation worse.
“They were taped to your door. I saw them when I woke up. They weren’t there at three.” He took a deep breath, then told her the rest. “The last picture is of you. Sleeping. Your curtains don’t close the whole way.”
The coffee mug she had been holding between her hands slipped, shattering on the floor. He could see that hot coffee splashed her jeans, but she ignored it. Her face was so pale, he was afraid she would faint. Leaping to his feet, Jace hurried to her side and knelt on one knee beside her. He placed one arm on the back of her chair to steady her, his hand touching her shoulder. With the other, he gripped her hands on her lap. Man, they were cold. And so small. He had never noticed what tiny hands she had before. He pushed the irrelevant thought from his mind.
“Melanie? Say something. Come on. Talk to me.”
“He was watching me sleep?” she finally whispered.
“I know.” He rubbed circles on her hand with his thumb. “Look, I called Paul while I was upstairs. It’s all arranged. At some point today, I’ll be relieved. I’ll go home and take a nap. That way tonight I can stay awake during my shift. Another officer will relieve me at five.” He nudged her, trying to urge a smile. “Unless I can convince you to let me place you in a motel in town?”
He sighed when she stubbornly shook her head. “Didn’t think so.”
The phone rang. Melanie shrieked, her eyes flying wide open.
Jace’s face became cold as he marched to the phone and yanked it off its cradle. “Lieutenant Tucker,” he barked. He listened for a moment. He closed his eyes and raked his hands through his hair. This was not good.
Dread curdled in the pit of his stomach.
“Thank you. Yes, yes. I will let her know. We’ll be there.”
He turned around, then stepped back. Melanie was standing close enough to kiss. Where did that thought come from? Especially given the hollow look on her face.
“What will you tell me?” she demanded. “And where are we going?”
“That was the hospital. I’m sorry. Your aunt is in a coma.”
For a brief moment, Jace worried that she would pass out. She swayed briefly, but managed to regain her composure. He had automatically reached out to steady her, but she pushed his hands away.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, jerking away from him. She took a step toward the kitchen door and wobbled. He reached out to steady her again, but she waved him off. “I need to see my aunt.”
He could see it was no use arguing with her. “Let’s go.”
*
Melanie raced into the hospital, desperate to see her aunt. The nurses directed her to the intensive care unit. She arrived at her aunt’s door breathless. Two policemen stood at the entrance to her aunt’s private room. When she made to enter, they blocked her.
“I’m here to see my aunt. Let me through,” she demanded.
“Sorry, ma’am. We were directed to keep all unauthorized personnel out,” the policeman on the right informed her. His partner merely nodded.
Melanie stomped her foot, then stopped, appalled. She was not going to throw a tantrum. Even if she did feel like a kettle about to start whistling.
“We are authorized,” Jace said smoothly from behind her.
Melanie groaned. She had completely forgotten him. Had he seen her childish behavior? She flicked a sheepish glance in his direction. Yep. His eyes were definitely twinkling with amusement as he winked at her. She lifted her chin. She had every reason to be impatient. These idiots were blocking her path.
They are protecting Aunt Sarah.
Ashamed of her uncharitable attitude, she apologized to the men. They blinked. Apparently they didn’t expect good manners from an ex-con, Mel thought, torn between amusement and sadness.
“Can we enter, gentlemen?” Jace drawled politely.
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant Tucker.” They moved aside to allow Mel and Jace to enter.
“Oh, Jace,” Mel gasped in shock. Aunt Sarah was even more fragile in appearance than before. Tubes seemed to be fastened everywhere. A monitor set up behind her head beeped at consistent intervals. Instead of the brightly lit hospital room from yesterday, this room was kept dimmer. Melanie shivered at the macabre feeling in the air.
The door opened, admitting a young physician. The first thought that crossed Melanie’s mind was that he appeared too cold to be a doctor. She immediately shoved the thought away. Who was she to judge whether the man was qualified to be a doctor? Still, his level stare made her shiver.
“Where is Dr. Jensen?” Melanie demanded.
“Dr. Jensen is out today. I am Dr. Ramirez.” He smiled, a clinical smile without warmth. She was suddenly reminded of the way her father smiled. Charming on the outside, pure venom within.
Jace shook the doctor’s hand. Mel thrust aside her dislike and listened as he explained her aunt’s condition. Or tried to listen. It all sounded like gibberish to Melanie. She had reached the point where she could not process what he telling her.
Jace threw her a concerned glance.
“Melanie?”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t get it. Yesterday I was told she would be able
to come home today.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, that was correct. But there an accident. The charts were switched around. Your aunt was given the wrong IV.”
“The wrong IV? How does that happen?” Melanie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“We are investigating the matter, Miss Swanson. Rest assured that we will get this sorted out.”
“What was she given?”
“She was given medication to lower her glucose levels. It sent her levels too low, and caused her to go into a diabetic coma.”
Snorting, she glared at the doctor. “Can you tell me for certain that my aunt will recover?”
Silence. The doctor met her eyes with his. Again, she shivered at the emptiness there. As if her aunt were just a chart instead of a living, breathing human being in need.
“Who had access to the charts?” Jace snapped.
“What? Well, I don’t know…”
“Find out. And keep this information as private as possible. This is now a crime scene.”
At these words, the doctor’s mouth tightened. Melanie clenched and unclenched her fists in an effort to regain control of her emotions. The fact that Jace felt her aunt had been deliberately targeted came as no surprise. Indeed, she had suspected foul play the minute Jace had told her about the coma. It had to have been the same person who had tampered with her hot chocolate before. They needed to talk with the other jurors and find out what was going on—why the people connected to her and to her trial were being targeted.
“I need to locate the other eleven jurors,” Jace stated, echoing her thoughts.
“Can I…” she began.
He was already shaking his head. “No. One is already dead. I can’t expose you to that kind of danger.”
She sighed. She hadn’t really expected him to take her along, but she dreaded being apart from him. Only when he was near did she feel safe. It was strange, since he had once been her biggest enemy. But she knew in her soul that he would do anything to protect her, no matter how he felt about her personally.
