Hide in Plain Sight

by Sara Orwig

  When he thought of Meskell, he always remembered Dusty. He had watched Meskell lean out of his car and shoot Dusty and then speed away. He’d been unable to do anything about it. Jake swore under his breath, clenching his fists. He hated Meskell and he knew it was mutual. When they caught Lenny, Jake had been the one to cuff him.

  Jake drove to his tenth-floor condo, which was west of downtown. Two hours later, after throwing what he needed into a small case and packing his shoulder holster, he changed into jeans and a navy T-shirt. Jake tucked the weapon he preferred, a 9 mm semiautomatic, into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. After locking up his condo, he turned onto San Antonio Street and headed north to take the freeway through Austin, turning onto the road leading to her house.

  The road slashed through rolling hills dotted with feathery mesquite, bright yellow black-eyed Susans, wild pink and yellow lantana and tall green grass that bent in the June breeze.

  In minutes the tenseness left Jake’s shoulders. As he glanced at a herd of white-faced Herefords grazing nearby, he relaxed, thinking about the land he had purchased. After retirement he would settle in the country, where it would be quiet and peaceful. But his thoughts strayed back to the task at hand.

  A widow who was an artist. Probably about as tough as spring tulips. Well, maybe a little tougher than that. He remembered her quick reaction at the trial in April when Meskell had lunged at her. She had doubled up her fists and had thrown her hands up to defend herself. She had been ready to fight. Jake smiled at the memory.

  “Damn,” he said softly. If he had two kids and his life had been threatened, he wouldn’t continue to live isolated on the city’s edge. He prayed the house was set back miles from the highway, near neighbors, and behind a high fence, with a vicious guard dog.

  Weekend traffic was heavy and he pressed the brake as he came up behind a bright lime-colored Volkswagen. In minutes he was swearing impatiently under his breath because there was no chance to pass on the two-lane stretch of road and oncoming traffic was steady. The usual wide shoulders the state provided were missing along this stretch of pavement, and on every rise the glow-in-the-dark wreck in front of him slowed to thirty-five miles an hour. Downhill, the car picked up speed, getting to forty.

  In minutes a glance in the rearview mirror showed a string of cars behind him. Finally, at the top of a hill, he had a chance to pass and stepped on the accelerator, barreling around the creeping car and settling back in the seat with a shake of his head.

  Twenty minutes later, long before he reached it, Jake saw the Bolen place. The small one-story frame house was set back from the road about a quarter of a mile on a slight hill and was clearly visible from the highway, as well as from the stand of oaks across the road, and from any number of places in any direction around it.

  A dilapidated one-car garage with a tar-paper roof and a weathered barn stood yards away from the house to the west. Three wooden steps ran up to the front porch, where a porch swing hung from the ceiling. Along the drive in front of the house was a battered metal mailbox on a post.

  Winding along the hilly drive, Jake slowed and parked in front of the house and stepped out, feeling a surge of anger as he looked at a stand of pines behind the place. “Dammit,” he muttered. Anyone could hide with a high-powered rifle and pick Rebecca Bolen off, and no one would see who had done it. Meskell couldn’t have asked for a better arrangement.

  A plume of dust rose in the air near the highway, and Jake studied the road he had just traveled. In seconds the green Volkswagen topped a hill and then went down out of sight, dust following in its wake. Jake’s eyes narrowed and he prayed it was someone coming to visit. As he watched the approach of the car that backfired loudly, he could see three heads through the windows.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” he grumbled again. She lived in plain view, drove a car that couldn’t outrace a kid on a bicycle and wouldn’t be more noticeable if it had her name in red flashing neon across the top.

  The car slowed and stopped and two little girls climbed out, wearing matching pink shorts and white T-shirts. The taller child had a long brown pigtail.

  She was the one who noticed him first, speaking to the other little girl, who turned to look at him. He recognized them from their pictures: Tara and Celia. The tallest turned to pick up a sack of groceries and hand it to the smaller child.

  His annoyance shot up another notch. The mother should have kept them in the car until she knew who was waiting. They could all see him, and yet there was no hesitation in the children about getting out of the car. As he started toward them, Rebecca Bolen emerged and came around the car, and for an instant Jake forgot where he was or why he was there.

  Golden hair fell below her shoulders in a slight curl. Wide blue eyes gazed at him with arched brows raised in question and full red lips made him think about kisses. She had flawless creamy skin and pink cheeks. The pictures hadn’t done her justice, and she had looked different in the courtroom.

  There was a lively sparkle in her eyes that made him forget what he had been about to say. His gaze lowered to her slender throat, the green knit shirt that fit and clung to lush curves and a tiny waist. Pale jeans hugged her hips. He pulled his gaze up again in time to see her eyes narrow.

  “Take the groceries inside,” she said, giving the taller child a key and waiting, staring at Jake. As the girls went to a side door, he moved toward Mrs. Bolen, stopping only yards away, momentarily forgetting his purpose and thinking she had the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

  Rebecca watched Detective Delancy stride purposefully toward her, and suddenly her heart began drumming. She remembered the moments in the courtroom, remembered Detective Delancy slugging Lenny Meskell and stopping him in his tracks. And she remembered Captain Vance talking to her on the phone, assuring her that Delancy “is as dependable as sunshine. He’s damn good at his job.”

  Looking at the tall man striding toward her, she could imagine that he was very good at his job. He looked decisive, confident and fit. She should have felt relief, but the closer he drew, the less relieved she felt, because he had an aura about him that made her too aware of him as a man. And made her conscious of herself as a woman.

  It was a unique, troublesome feeling that she hadn’t experienced since her husband’s death, and she didn’t want to experience it now, not with the man who was going to be their bodyguard. Thank heavens he would be outside in his patrol car!

  “I'm Detective Lieutenant Jake Delancy,” he said finally, “and I've been assigned to protect you.”

  Rebecca nodded, studying him. His assessing glance made her conscious of her appearance and too conscious of him as an attractive male.

  She remembered Detective Delancy from the trial, remembered his tousled, thick brown hair. Now she noticed his firm chin and his sexy mouth, with its full, sensual underlip. There was a slight crook in his nose, and his features combined into a rugged handsomeness. His thickly lashed hazel eyes would have brought the term bedroom eyes to mind, except that there was a coldness in them that was a reminder of his purpose.

  She dreaded the disorder he was going to bring into their lives, yet she remembered Meskell lunging across the courtroom, his blue eyes fixed on her, and she knew this was necessary. Delancy had a tough, no-nonsense air about him that should have been reassuring under the circumstances, yet his blatant study of her made her feel as if a new danger had just entered her life. He made her feel like a woman again.

  “Captain Vance told me you were coming. I'm Rebecca Bolen.”

  When Jake offered his hand, she extended hers. Her hand was soft and warm as he gave a brief shake. “I'll get the groceries,” Jake said, glancing up the road again. “You go inside.”

  As if she hadn’t heard him, she turned to get sacks out of the car, and he reached out, touching her arm. She swung around, her eyes narrowing, and he wanted to groan. She was a single mother who owned her own business—probably as independent as an alley cat. She was going to have to le
arn to take some orders during the next few days, whether she liked it or not.

  “Get inside, Mrs. Bolen. You're in danger. I'll bring the groceries.”

  Looking startled, she glanced past him at the road and then turned to hurry inside. He watched her walk away, watched the seductive sway of her hips, her trim bottom and long legs encased snugly in jeans. Turning to pick up sacks of groceries, he mentally swore at Richard Vance once more. This assignment would be a lot easier if Rebecca Bolen weren’t so damned pretty.

  Jake strode toward the small house, gravel crunching beneath his feet as he walked along the drive. A narrow graveled walk led to the door, and beds of pink and purple periwinkle grew beside the house. As he went up the back steps, an eerie prickling crossed his nape.

  Jake glanced over his shoulder at the shadowed woods. He felt vulnerable, standing in plain view of the trees with his arms filled with groceries. He yanked open the door, entering and letting the screen slap shut behind him.

  * * *

  “Pow!” came the soft word, the sound not carrying. The hairs in the rifle sight made a dark cross against Jake Delancy’s head as he stood on the step to Rebecca Bolen’s back door.

  The barrel of the rifle lowered. Lenny Meskell grinned as he watched Delancy disappear into the house. They’d sent Delancy to protect the bitch. Meskell chuckled. Now he’d get them both.

  He could have gotten them only minutes ago. He’d had them both in his rifle sight, yet he wanted Rebecca Bolen alive for a while. He wanted her to worry first. Then he would take her with him, head down to Mexico. She would regret the day she’d stood up and declared him guilty.

  He would kill Delancy, then take her and kill her later. And she would go with him willingly, to protect her children. He knew women like Mrs. Bolen. Uptight, self-righteous, worried about their kids.

  The cops thought Delancy could keep her safe. Meskell took a drag on his cigarette and tossed down the butt, studying the house. He could get into the house any night. Once he got in her bedroom he knew Delancy couldn’t make a move, because Mrs. Bitch would then be a hostage.

  But they’d sent Delancy out—what if there were others? he thought suddenly. His grin fading, Lenny looked around, hating the eerie silence of the woods, his eyes peering through the shadows. Was Delancy alone?

  Lenny inhaled and stepped back from the edge of the woods, moving cautiously, placing the rifle sling over his shoulder and drawing his pistol.

  He studied the trees, watching for movement. Damn, he hated the outdoors. Worse than a cell. Damn worse than a cell. Better not see a snake. He hated snakes. He moved through the trees. He’d come back tonight. No hurry. He’d come back and check to see if the police were going to stand guard outside or if the detective was considered sufficient.

  Lenny fingered the grip of his pistol as he moved through the woods. Give them another day. This was Saturday. By tomorrow night, or in the early hours of Monday morning, while it was still dark. Let them wait and wonder when he’d make his move.

  Payback was coming. The cop and the bitch. He’d get them both, and they’d regret ever crossing paths with Lenny Meskell. Lenny glanced over his shoulder. Through the trees, he could still see the white square of the house. He’d be back soon enough.

  A sudden thought occurred to him, and he grinned again, looking over his shoulder. “I'll give you something to think about, Delancy,” he muttered, moving faster through the woods, away from the house.

  * * *

  Jake kicked the door closed with his foot and set the sacks of groceries on the wooden table. The compact kitchen was filled with oak cabinets, pots of green plants, pictures held by magnets to the refrigerator, and an antique round oak table.

  As the little girls stared at him, he smiled at them.

  “Girls, this is Mr. Delancy. Mr. Delancy, this is Tara and Celia, but we call her Sissy.”

  “Hello, Tara,” he said. He nodded at Sissy, who was studying him intently, her tiny mouth pursed as she stared. She was blond like her mother, with the same blue eyes. He wiped his forehead, thinking it felt like a hundred and ten degrees in the kitchen.

  “I'll turn on the air-conditioning, and you can have a seat in the living room while I put away the groceries,” Rebecca said, switching on a window unit.

  “I'll help with the groceries,” he said, joining the girls, who were already putting things away.

  Shrugging, Rebecca took a head of lettuce from a sack. He noticed tiny cuts and scratches covering her slender hands, and he leaned forward, pointing at the back of one finger. “A cat?”

  She shook her head. “My job. I work with glass.”

  Nodding, Jake picked up frozen cans of orange juice. The girls were staring at him, and he wondered if they had any idea who he was or why he was there.

  “We're finished,” Tara said. “We'll be in the backyard, Mom.”

  He watched them go, knowing he was going to change this family’s lifestyle and wondering how big a task it would be.

  “Would you like a glass of tea, Mr. Delancy?”

  “It’s Jake. No need to be formal. We're going to see a lot of each other in the next few days. And yes, tea sounds good,” he replied, wondering if the window unit was the only one they had. He watched her move around the kitchen, and in minutes she held out a glass of iced tea to him. Short tendrils of blond hair clung damply to her temples, and she pushed them away, shaking her head and causing her fall of hair to swirl across her shoulders. His fingers brushed hers as he accepted the cool drink. He looked down at her, knowing he needed to keep his mind on business.

  “You seem annoyed,” she remarked.

  He gazed beyond her at the back door window.

  “This house wasn’t built for security,” he answered, checking the simple lock, making up an excuse. The truth was that he was annoyed because he found himself attracted to her. “If she wanted to, your daughter could break in here in less than three minutes.”

  “We've never had to worry about that before.”

  “You don’t own a dog, you live in isolation, and you're on a major highway in full view of the road. You need more security all the time, not just now.”

  “Thank you, Detective,” she replied frostily. “We can go to the living room,” she said without moving, and then he realized she was waiting for him to get out of the way. He stepped aside, and as she brushed past him, he caught a faint enticing scent, like summer flowers.

  While he followed her down a narrow hallway, his gaze drifted down to the sexy sway of her bottom. Had he been so wound up at Meskell’s trial that he hadn’t noticed Rebecca Bolen? Or had it been her conservative hairdo and clothing? He had been in court only to testify and to hear the verdict so he had paid little attention to the jurors. And he’d been more interested in Meskell than the jury. Now he wondered how he could have not noticed Rebecca Bolen.

  Pausing, she pointed to an open doorway. “That’s the girls' bedroom, and mine is across the hall.” She slanted him a look over her shoulder. “Does someone else come this evening for a night watch?”

  Taking a long drink of the iced tea, Jake shook his head. “No, I'm here full-time,” he said, glancing at a room with twin beds, pink bedspreads, a rocking chair, dolls, shelves lined with toys and books. A small fan stood on the floor.

  “You're the only one?”

  He turned back to find her staring at him with a frown. “Yep, I'm it—around the clock.”

  Rebecca stared at him in consternation. Jake Delancy would be living with them in this tiny house. The idea plagued her—she wasn’t accustomed to having a man in the house anymore. She thought about Dan and felt a pang of longing and need. She couldn’t help thinking that if Dan were here, none of this would be happening. If only— She closed her eyes, remembering her husband, knowing he would have taken charge in a situation like this. She felt the old pain resurfacing and was surprised that it still could take her breath away and make her ache. In twenty years, would it still hurt as badly? she
wondered.

  “Are you all right?” Detective Delancy asked, and she inhaled deeply, fighting to get her thoughts on the present and her emotions under control.

  He studied her, his probing gaze boring into her, jangling her nerves.

  “At Meskell’s trial you were ready to fight him when he lunged for you,” Jake said quietly. “Have you taken a course in self-defense?”

  “No,” she answered. “And I definitely wasn’t ready to fight him.”

  “You had your fists doubled.”

  “I didn’t know it at the time. I owe you a thank-you for stepping in.”

  “It was a pleasure,” he said, his voice becoming cold again, and she realized he felt strongly about Lenny Meskell.

  Jake entered the girls' room and tried a window, which slid open easily and silently. He closed it and turned the lock, then locked the window next to it. The screens had holes someone in times past had cut, and he sighed.

  “We sleep with the attic fan on and the windows open at night,” Rebecca said from the doorway. She was leaning with one hip against the door, and he saw disapproval in her eyes.

  “You'll have to start sleeping with the windows closed. These windows need to be locked, and I'll get better locks.”

  “Look,” she said, straightening up, her eyes becoming frosty, “I'm afraid of Meskell.” She folded her arms in front of her. “But we have to live our lives and keep some kind of normalcy. As much as possible, I don’t want to terrify the girls. And last winter I opened my own business, so I'm on a tight budget. I can’t afford to run the air-conditioning around the clock.”

  “Do you want me to show you how easily I can step through one of these windows when it’s open?”

  Her lips tightened as she shook her head. “How much danger are we in?”

  He gave her a level look. “I watched him gun down my co-worker.”

  She closed her eyes momentarily. “What about my girls? I don’t have relatives I can send them to stay with.”