My Baby, My Love

by Dani Sinclair

  For a moment, she wasn’t sure just what she’d heard. The house was frighteningly silent. Then came the smallest of sounds. It took her a second to realize someone had just opened the door on the landing. Fear crashed through her.

  The intruder hadn’t been alone!

  She swept the room for a hiding place. From outside came several popping sounds. Gunshots? Her gaze flew to the window. Noah!

  Sydney spun, seeking a weapon. The only portable item in the entire room was the cast-iron duck doorstop. Not much use against a gun, but hefting it, she decided it would make a solid thunk if she got close enough to throw it. She pushed aside the fear that urged her to crawl under the desk. Noah was in trouble and it was up to her to help.

  Peering around the corner, she had a clear view of the living room as well as the stairs. The door on the landing now stood open. That meant the second intruder had probably gone down the back stairs into the kitchen.

  Her throat went dry while her heart tried to beat its way free. Every instinct shouted for her to run. But run where? Noah had the keys to the car and someone was outside shooting at him. She had to find a telephone and call for help.

  She eyed the open front door. The gulf between the houses looked enormous. She’d be a fully exposed target as she ran. Could she make it to a neighbor’s house before the gunman saw her? And what if the neighbor wasn’t home? She wouldn’t do Noah any good if she was dead.

  An image of Noah already lying in the grass somewhere added urgency. Gripping the heavy duck doorstop as tightly as she could, she crept into the hall on legs that threatened to turn to liquid any second. The back door opened and closed quietly.

  Sydney froze. She tried to remain calm, but her shaking intensified. Had the second intruder gone outside or had someone else come in? She couldn’t stand here paralyzed.

  If only she could remember whether there’d been a telephone on the wall near the kitchen table.

  Holding the duck in a death grip, Sydney took a deep breath and crossed the hall into the living room. In the dining room she paused again, straining to hear any sound. All she could hear was the hammering of her own pulse. Was she alone in the house or not?

  Sydney hated her panic almost as much as she hated her indecisiveness. And she really hated whoever these men were.

  Anger acted as a catalyst. Before she could change her mind, she rushed into the kitchen, the heavy doorstop raised as a weapon.

  The kitchen was empty.

  She ran to the back door, set the duck on the table and threw the dead bolt. A long, ill-kept backyard swept downward toward a line of trees. They were part of the heavily wooded areas that surrounded Fools Point. She glimpsed a running figure disappearing behind one of the trees. The intruder? And if so, which one?

  Where was Noah?

  She scanned the area, straining to spot him. Nothing else moved. The hazy afternoon sun seared the quiet landscape. Not even a dog barked. Nature seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen.

  And a horrible thought leaped out of ambush. Noah had confronted three men at the house yesterday. Two people had already left. If they were the same men, that meant a third person could still be inside.

  Her mind screamed in protest, but Sydney forced herself to turn slowly and survey the room. No telephone.

  Of course there was no telephone! The last tenants would have had it disconnected when they moved. She wasn’t thinking clearly or she’d have thought of this much sooner. Panic could get her killed.

  Her gaze came to rest on two closed doors. One no doubt led to a basement, but the other could connect with anything from a laundry room to a pantry or a bathroom. And anyone could be on the other side of either door—or still waiting upstairs.

  Fear made way for dry-mouthed terror. The memory of Laura’s battered face melded with memories of her own attacks. The very silence of the house preyed on her nerves.

  Sydney grabbed the cast-iron duck and ran through the dining room. She’d take her chances outside. At least there she could yell until she drew every neighbor for miles around. But as she sprinted toward the front door, a figure suddenly loomed in the opening without warning.

  Sydney screamed. Too late, she recognized the figure limping inside. By then, the duck had already left her hand.

  “Sydney!”

  Noah dodged needlessly. The heavy piece of cast iron plummeted immediately to the floor with a harmless crash. Noah came to a shocked halt.

  “What the devil…?”

  “I thought…I thought you were one of them!”

  Momentarily speechless, Noah stared at her. In two strides he was across the room, pulling her against his chest. She didn’t resist despite his sweaty, dirt-stained clothing. She was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded. “Sydney! Are you hurt?”

  With a shake of her head she lifted her face. “No. I heard shots.”

  “He missed.” Noah dismissed that completely. “You’re not hurt?”

  “No.”

  Noah drew back. “What did you mean, one of them?”

  She tugged his arms and lowered her voice to whisper. “There was someone else upstairs,” she told him.

  Ice formed side by side with regret in his chest. He should never have left her alone.

  “After you left, someone else went down the back stairs and out the back door. I threw the dead bolt, but it occurred to me that yesterday there were three men here at the house so maybe…”

  He hadn’t even thought about that, hadn’t taken any time to wonder who he was chasing. It could have been yesterday’s trio, or anyone else for that matter. He should have thought of that before charging out the door and leaving her alone.

  Noah swung her around and hurried her out the front door and onto the porch. They both heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance.

  Fear had lent a feverish cast to her eyes, but Sydney was firmly in control. Which was more than Noah could say for himself. The knowledge that he’d left her to face a hidden danger gnawed at him, destroying his rationale. All he wanted was to get her someplace safe.

  He took a deep breath. “We’ll go for the car. No matter what happens, you keep going until you’re inside with the doors locked.”

  “Okay.”

  Despite being scared to death, Sydney had guts. And even more startling, she still trusted him.

  “Stay behind me,” he said quickly. “I want you so close we’re practically welded together.”

  She tried for a shaky smile. “Sounds kinky.”

  She was incredible. “Remind me later and I’ll teach you something really kinky.”

  “I’ll settle for the knowledge that you’re wearing a bulletproof shirt.”

  “Nope. But it’s my lucky shirt. I’m not dead yet.”

  “Noah, look!”

  A Fools Point police car turned the corner, lights flashing.

  “We won’t have to put your shirt to the test after all,” Sydney stated in obvious relief. “The cavalry is here.”

  “No faith in my lucky shirt, huh? One of the neighbors either heard the shots or saw two grown men running through the yards in ninety-nine-degree temperatures and came to the correct assumption,” he agreed.

  “Thank God.”

  He cupped her face, pushing the hair from her cheek, and kissed her quickly. Then he went down the steps to meet the policeman.

  Officer Derek Jackstone listened while Noah explained what had happened, then Jackstone spoke into his radio, giving terse instructions. In short order, the Fools Point police force and several Montgomery County police officers descended on their doorstep.

  Jackstone assigned one man to go through the house while he sent two others to scour the neighborhood. He stayed with Noah and Sydney.

  “You’re bleeding,” Sydney said abruptly. She reached a finger to his cheek and it came away crimson.

  “Just a scratch. I rolled down the embankment and almost ended up in
the creek.” And if one of his men had performed so poorly, the man would be looking for another line of work. “When he started shooting I had to drop to avoid being hit and he got away.”

  “Can you give me a description?” Officer Jackstone asked.

  “Six feet, dark hair, jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “That sounds like the one I saw,” Sydney agreed.

  The policeman snorted. “That’s practically a summer uniform,” he said in disgust. “Color of the shirt?”

  “White,” they said in unison.

  “Derek?” a young officer shouted from the front porch. “The house is clean but we’ve got a locked door upstairs.”

  Officer Jackstone looked at Noah.

  “Probably the attic,” Noah told him.

  “Do you have a key, Major?”

  Noah shook his head. “But you’ve got my permission to break it down.”

  Jackstone nodded. Two more cars pulled up. “Chief’s here,” Jackstone called to the other officer. “Hold on and I’ll back you up.”

  Agent Wickowski approached with Chief John Hepplewhite. “Mrs. Inglewood. Major,” Chief Hepplewhite acknowledged. He ran blunt fingers through a shock of white hair that added years to his actual age.

  “What happened this time?” Wickowski demanded of Noah.

  Noah recounted the events as tersely as possible. As a trained runner, he should have caught the first man easily. Explaining that he hadn’t was embarrassing.

  Officer Jackstone reappeared at the top of the steps. “All clear, Chief.”

  Wickowski immediately turned to Noah. “Let’s go inside and get out of this heat. We’d like a word with you in private, Major. Officer Jackstone will stay with you, Mrs. Inglewood.”

  Reluctantly, Noah went into the den with the two men and covered the events once again, answering questions quickly, anxious to get back to Sydney.

  “So the man you were chasing could have been this Alex Coughlin?” Wickowski asked.

  “Or Barry Fairvale, or Officer Jackstone or anyone else fitting that general description. I told you, I never got a clear look at his face.”

  “But you did hear a motorcycle,” Wickowski pressed.

  “Heard it, but never saw it. How many motorcycles do you figure there are in and around this area?”

  “Too many,” Wickowski agreed. “But it’s one more lead to follow.”

  Frowning, Hepplewhite rubbed his chin. “I’ll run a check on Fairvale and Coughlin.”

  “Do that.” Noah strode for the door, finished with the interview whether they were or not. They hadn’t asked a thing they couldn’t have asked in front of Sydney.

  And the living room couch was empty. Jackstone stood guard on the staircase landing.

  “Mrs. Inglewood is in the bathroom,” he explained, starting down the steps as Noah went up.

  “Chief?” A voice called from the front porch. “We found shell casings.”

  “Be right there.”

  When Noah reached the second floor he found the bathroom door standing wide open, the room empty. Fear clutched at him until he heard someone moving in the bedroom next door.

  The smell of fresh paint lingered in the humid air. He found Sydney standing beside a scarred maple dresser.

  “Noah?” Excitement lanced in her voice. “Was this Jerome’s room?”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  Her perception surprised him. There was nothing personal to mark the room as his brother’s former territory that he could see, but Noah briefly noted the bare mattress on the matching bed. The cover had been torn—or more likely, slit open with a knife.

  “Then it looks like he owned a tape recorder after all.”

  A cold prickle walked up his back. As soon as he came abreast of her, Noah saw what she had seen. A wastebasket sat beside the tall dresser. Inside was a discarded plastic shopping bag bearing a local store logo. The open bag held a box and some packing paper, carelessly stuffed back inside. The contents were clearly labeled.

  Noah removed the bag. “One of those small microcassette recorders,” he said.

  “But what did Jerome tape?”

  Noah wondered the same thing. He delved into the bag for the receipt. Fishing it out, he studied the printed information.

  “He bought it at the appliance store here in Fools Point two weeks ago. The credit card slip indicates he bought batteries and several tapes to go with the recorder. There’s a wrapper for the batteries and for one of the tapes at the bottom of the bag.”

  “At least now we know what sort of tape to look for,” she said softly.

  “Yeah.”

  She pulled her hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear, but worry lined her features. “We’d better have a look around.”

  “It’s worth a try, but someone has already searched most of the house. I noticed the signs when we were going through the downstairs earlier.” He indicated the torn mattress and her eyes widened.

  “Is that what we interrupted when we came in?”

  “Looks that way. I’d better get Hepplewhite and Wickowski. They need to figure out the who and why.”

  Wickowski was excited by their discovery. Sydney sat beside Noah on the sofa, her hand in his. He wasn’t sure which of them had reached for the other and he didn’t care. The physical contact was somehow reassuring.

  The police search yielded nothing beyond confirmation that someone had already searched the place pretty thoroughly. There were no tapes of any kind in the house. They lifted a few prints, but because there’d been tenants and work crews in here, most of them would be of little value unless they happened to hit pay dirt with a known felon.

  Chief Hepplewhite arranged for a locksmith to come out right away and change all the locks on the house. By the time things were winding down, Noah felt as tired as Sydney looked.

  “I’m too dirty to go anywhere like this. Let me grab my kit and some clean clothes and I’ll take a quick shower while the police are still here. Then what do you say we go over to the restaurant and grab a bite to eat before we try one of the local motels?” Noah asked.

  “Whatever you want to do.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Sydney dipped her head, her hair falling forward to obscure her face. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You aren’t a very good liar, Syd.”

  “I’m just tired. Go get your shower. I’m fine, Noah.”

  She was more than fine, but he was trying hard not to think about that. Noah showered in record time, finding towels in the linen closet as always. He returned to the living room feeling rejuvenated, only to discover Sydney half-asleep on the couch. Officer Jackstone and another officer were talking quietly in the hall foyer.

  “Mrs. Inglewood looks beat,” Jackstone offered. “You two planning to spend the night here?”

  “Originally, but after today I’m not sure she’s going to want to do that.”

  “Yeah. Here’s the mail her friend was bringing to the house last night. We’ll be keeping a close eye on this place tonight, so if you do stay here, just holler if you need anything at all.”

  “No phone,” he reminded them. “I think we’ll go out to the Bide Awhile Motel and—”

  Jackstone shook his head. “Place burned down last month. The nearest motel is up in Frederick or down in Germantown.”

  “That’s right. I noticed the motel was closed when I drove into town, but I forgot. Thanks. And thanks for responding so quickly this afternoon.”

  “No problem, Major. We generally respond real quick to a call about shots being fired in this neighborhood. The mayor lives on the court.” He smiled. “Take it easy. Good night, Mrs. Inglewood.”

  Sydney had joined them silently. Now she added her thanks and watched them leave.

  “Is it my turn for a shower?”

  “Do you want one?” he asked in surprise.

  She smiled. “What I really want is a long hot soak in a sauna, but I’ll settle for a cup of herbal tea and a nap, n
ot necessarily in that order.”

  “Can’t help you with the sauna, but we can go get that tea and some food. You’ll feel better after you eat. Then we’ll drive down to Germantown and check into a motel so you can have an early night. Who knows, maybe we can find one with a sauna.”

  He led her outside, pausing to collect the pile of mail that was sitting on the hall table.

  “Don’t you want to come back to the house tonight?”

  “I thought you might prefer another anonymous motel.”

  “It’s a nice old house, Noah,” she temporized.

  “Yeah. It is.” He’d been surprised by all the good memories that had come flooding back this afternoon while they’d been sitting there waiting.

  “Fools Point was a good town to grow up in,” he added.

  “I can see that. I like your police chief and his men.”

  “Hepplewhite? He’s not a native, but yeah, I like him too. He and his men ask smart questions. Wickowski seems to approve as well.”

  “I’ve been thinking about all this, Noah. There were only two men inside the bank that day. At least I never saw a third man. And today, there were only two men that we know of hiding inside the house.”

  “You think that lets Yosten and his crew out as suspects?”

  She grew thoughtful. “Not necessarily, but those men were inside the house most of yesterday. I mean, the bathroom and bedroom had both been painted so they had plenty of time to look around. If they were involved, I don’t see why they’d risk getting caught by coming back today. Maybe we were prejudiced by the way they looked. Lots of people wear jeans and T-shirts. And look how many men have dark hair. You do yourself.”

  Noah nodded. “Good point.” He parked the car in the restaurant lot and came around to let her out. “On the other hand, maybe they returned to finish their search.”

  The bar area had a good capacity crowd already and the restaurant was doing a brisk business as well. He glimpsed the man calling himself Jake Collins, tending bar. Another man with dark hair, he realized.

  The wait wasn’t long. The food and the service were every bit as good as they’d been the night before. Noah recognized several people who were seated around them. A few even nodded in recognition, but no one approached their table.