Noah held out his hand. “Welcome back to Summer Island, Deputy Russo.”
“Nice to be home. And call me Rafe. Hard to believe that things haven’t changed very much back here. When you’re where I was, you got the feeling you were at the end of the world. Time stops over there. You’re sure that nothing will be the same when it’s over.”
Noah nodded. “I know what you mean. There’s a fellow in D.C. who sends his regards. He said to tell you the hats are still green and the beer will be cold. I suppose that means something to you.”
“Yes, it does. Tell him to keep his head down.” Rafe rolled his shoulders. “Whatever happens, you can count on Jilly to cook a fantastic meal,” Rafe said gruffly.
Grace and Olivia had been talking, and now Grace turned to Rafe. “Welcome home, Rafe. It’s been too long. And, Olivia, we have a surprise for you.”
Grace moved back a step while Noah lifted a big framed picture.
Rafe saw that it was an architectural rendering of the Harbor House, captured in an exquisite pen-and-ink sketch. He recognized Olivia’s signature at the bottom. The details in the sketch left him speechless. She had captured the grace and dignity of the old house perfectly.
“We’re going to hang it in the front foyer. Everybody needs to see your work, Olivia.”
Olivia flushed. “I don’t—know what to say.”
“Say that you’ll knit more sweaters for the yarn shop, and I’ll be satisfied. Your samples will sell a lot of yarn.”
Olivia laughed. “I’ll get right on it. I already have six different projects on my needles right now, but who needs to sleep?”
“Don’t worry, Jilly will probably kick me out of the kitchen any day now. After she does, you and I will go knit samples together.” Grace leaned closer. “Jilly has her new food empire all mapped out. Luckily, she’s going to use the internet this time around.” Grace held up a plate to Rafe. “What do you think?”
Rafe turned the plate slowly. “One cappuccino brownie, one cinnamon-chipotle brownie and a slice of banana-cream pie. How did you know what I like, Grace?”
“Easy,” Grace said. “You always had a soft spot for sweet things.” She studied the bustling room. “This is the first time we’ve gotten everyone together here.”
“If you ask me, the four of you have worked a miracle. I still can’t figure out how you managed it.”
“That’s what Noah keeps saying.” Grace moved closer to the tall man and slid her fingers through his.
“You’re going to have at least four people staying here, I can guarantee that.” Noah slid his arm around Grace’s waist. “My father tells me he’s bringing the whole family to visit next month. They’ll be some of your first guests. My mother has heard a lot about Jilly’s cooking and she can’t wait for a one-on-one cooking class.”
Walker tapped a knife on a glass.
Jilly and Walker moved to the front of the room, and Walker held up his hand. “Sorry to interrupt my wife’s excellent desserts, but if you’ll sit down, we have a few things to say. No, don’t look bored. It’s the price of admission for having Jilly’s brownies. You have to listen to a story.”
There were a few mock groans.
“Stow it. Jilly has an announcement.”
Walker looked ready to burst with pride, Rafe thought. And if he was ever lucky enough to have a child with Olivia, would he look that same way?
Rafe figured he probably would.
Jilly glanced around the room slowly. Then she turned to Walker. “I never thought I’d come back to Summer Island. I had bigger plans for things I could only do in big cities. But one night I met a man in a little airport up in a little mountain town and I fell in love. Well, the truth is, I fell in love with his dog first. So where are you, Winslow?” A big dog cut through the crowd and sat beside Jilly. He rubbed his head against her leg. “You see what I mean? This guy is a real heartbreaker.” Jilly rubbed Winslow’s head and then took a deep breath. “The other thing is—when Walker and I decided to make our home here in Summer Island, it was because of you. The Harbor House is our home.”
There was another round of applause, and Jilly slid her hands into Walker’s. “The last thing we wanted to tell you is that...we just had the results. We’re crazy excited. I’m terrified, too, but Walker tells me that’s normal.”
“Terrified about what?” This came from Caro’s grandmother, seated and holding Caro’s now-sleeping child.
Jilly looked at Walker. “You tell them.”
Walker rubbed his jaw and smiled slowly. “Jilly’s pregnant. We wanted all of you to know about it first.”
Whatever Walker would have said next was drowned out by shouted congratulations and wild clapping. Glasses of champagne were held high, and crystal clinked.
Jilly went beet-red. Walker looked a little flushed, too. Olivia was pretty sure her heart was going to explode with happiness at any second.
Because these were the people she loved most in the world, she thought she wanted to make her own announcement now. She wanted to say that Rafe was home to stay, and she and Rafe were together now, the way they had always hoped to be.
She didn’t know exactly what their future would be, but they would be together, figuring out the challenges every step of the way.
A cell phone chimed quietly. Olivia glanced up as Rafe reached into his back pocket, pulled out his phone and scanned the number. There was a faint narrowing of his eyes.
He looked at her, smiled and said, “I have to take this.”
Then he walked away, cell phone to his ear.
“Anything wrong?” Jilly moved next to Olivia. The two watched Rafe disappear into the kitchen.
“He got a phone call. Probably nothing.”
Olivia was still waiting five minutes later. Rafe had not returned.
Grace moved next to Jilly. “Where is our local law enforcement officer? Those brownies are going fast.”
“Rafe’s in the kitchen,” Jilly said thoughtfully. “He got a call. Probably some paperwork at the station.”
Rafe walked over to Walker. The two men spoke quietly.
“Wonder what they’re talking about. How to align your tires or clean your distributor cap?”
Rafe saw the three women staring at him and crossed the room. “I’ve got to go. Tom Wilkinson called. There’s a little problem down at the station. I should be back in an hour. Why don’t you stay here with your friends, honey. I’ll come back and get you when I’m done.”
“Of course. Do what you need to do. Just a friendly warning, though. If you take more than an hour, those brownies will be gone.”
Rafe touched her cheek and then frowned when his cell phone rang again. He took the call and turned away toward the door. Olivia heard him repeat a number before he closed the door behind him.
She didn’t move, struck by a cold wave of fear. But she wouldn’t cave in, not the way she had before. She was surrounded by her friends, and Rafe knew what he was doing. She wasn’t going to let her mind be derailed into dark possibilities.
Walker cleared his throat. “Those brownies are going fast. I think I’ll bring more from the kitchen.”
When he moved away, some instinct made Olivia follow. She saw him cross the kitchen and keep right on walking, out to the side porch. Rafe was there, standing next to his car. The trunk was opened; she could see a long metal case inside.
Walker glanced down as Rafe opened the case. Olivia couldn’t make out what was inside.
“What is it, a burglary?”
“Domestic disturbance. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Can you take Olivia home? I don’t want her to be alone tonight.”
“Don’t worry about Olivia. She’ll be fine here. You need some help?” Walker asked. “Noah and I can tag along if you want.”
“Better not. Official jurisdiction and all that.” Rafe closed the big case.
Walker nodded. “Got it.”
Olivia thought she felt a silent message pass between the two men. Cold wind brushed h
er face like icy fingers. Then Rafe was gone.
Olivia stopped Walker at the steps. “What did he say?”
Walker frowned. “He had something to do at the station.”
“No, he said there was a domestic disturbance. And I heard him say a number. Ten-forty-seven.” Olivia stared at Rafe’s retreating car, her face pale. “I’ve been studying the police codes. I wanted to know what they meant since I was seeing Rafe. Ten-forty-seven means armed with firearms. That’s bad.”
Walker didn’t say anything.
Olivia turned around, her face set. She found her purse and walked over to Jilly. “Can I borrow your car?”
“Of course you can, but where are you going?”
“I’m going to be there. In case...well, just in case.”
Walker moved a step in front of her. He shook his head. “Olivia, you can’t go there. This is a police matter. It will be dangerous.”
Olivia pushed his hand away. “I’m not a fool. I’m not going to get close or be a distraction. I just...I just want to be there in the distance.” She stared at Jilly, her eyes pleading. “Can I borrow your car?’
Jilly looked at Walker, who muttered a curse. “Hell. If you’re determined to go, I’ll drive you. But only under these conditions. You do exactly what I say. No noise. And you do not leave the car. Not under any circumstances.”
“Fine. Now can we go?”
Walker touched Jilly’s cheek, took a deep breath and slid the car keys into his pocket. “Make sure that I don’t regret this, Olivia.” His voice was very hard.
Olivia barely heard him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
HE WAS HERE and yet he wasn’t here.
Rafe felt the cool wind on his face, smelled the musky perfume of pine needles. The Oregon coast was a universe away from the drifting dust and acrid heat of Afghanistan, but violence felt the same, no matter what patch of ground you stood on.
This time the threat was at home, close to those he loved. Rafe didn’t allow himself to think about that now.
Tom Wilkinson looked sick, his features pale and drawn. The dispatcher had pulled him away from therapy at the hospital, and pain lines were etched on his face. “You have your equipment?”
Rafe nodded.
“Good. Here’s the situation. It started as a domestic dispute. Husband just got back from prison. Wife seeing another man. Things went south fast. There’s a three-year-old child in there,” the sheriff said coldly. “One of our men went in twenty minutes ago. He hasn’t reported back. Shots were fired and we think the deputy may be wounded.”
Rafe nodded. Domestic disturbances were the worst, volatile and totally unpredictable. With a child involved, everything became a nightmare. He said nothing else, moving around the car and opening the trunk. He pulled out his big case, which carried the sniper rifle he had used through two tours of duty in Afghanistan.
He had hoped to put this part of his life behind him for good. He had done enough killing in the drifting desert dust.
Rafe assembled the equipment expertly and then scanned the dark hillside. He narrowed his focus to a tunnel. Only three things mattered now.
Threat. Terrain. Resolution.
As he worked, he let the noises of the night play around him. He absorbed the sounds of the wind and the distant crashing of waves at the coast. Then he looked at the sheriff. “I’m going to need secure vantage. There’s a clump of shrubs to the right of the driveway—0300.” He used the military location designations as a habit.
Wilkinson nodded. “You won’t be visible from the house. There are no streetlights in that area either. It’s a good spot. For the record I’m authorizing you to use lethal force. I’ve tried to reach the man inside for ten minutes. He never answers. We know his wife is inside and we know there’s a child involved. Our time is running out. Unless you hear differently, if you have an opportunity then take the shot.”
Rafe felt the world still. He felt the cold barrel of the rifle beneath his fingers, felt the wind in his hair. He felt the terrible weight of life and death settle on his shoulders. There was no room for error.
He stood motionless. “I want to make this clear. I’m to take the shot. Is that right?”
Tom Wilkinson nodded curtly. “Take him. The nearest SWAT team is forty-five minutes away. We don’t have that much time. It’s on you, Rafe.”
“Understood.” Rafe would not shirk the responsibility, no matter how unwelcome it was.
“Follow me.” The sheriff gripped his side as if it hurt. Then he waved Rafe forward into the woods.
* * *
“THIS IS TOM WILKINSON. How are things going in there? I’d like to speak with you.”
There was no answer from inside the darkened house. Somewhere Rafe heard the faint cry of a child as he took up a position along the slope. Through a window at the stairwell he could see movement in the room, but he couldn’t pick out figures.
He needed to be closer.
“I’d really like to talk to you.” Tom’s calm voice went on, and Rafe knew he was trying to establish contact with the hostage taker while getting an update on the situation inside. “Do you need anything in there? Food? Water? Is anyone hurt?”
Just as before, there was no answer.
Rafe moved quietly up the deep hillside, focused on that small window and what it could tell him. He heard the sound of something heavy dropping and then the frightened cry of a woman.
Whatever was going on inside that house could explode into violence at any moment.
Rafe crawled to the window and sank flat. He eased a set of night-vision goggles into place and waited for the scene inside to grow clear.
In the green flare of the goggles, he made out two figures in the middle of the room. The smaller figure was locked into place, a shield in front of the man. This had to be the hostage. Rafe studied the room, looking for any other movement or figures.
The child cried again, sounding cranky and frightened and tired. The sound seemed to come from an upstairs bedroom.
Tom Wilkinson kept on talking, his voice calm and deep next to the front door. “Maybe if you told me what you want, I could help you. I can’t do anything to help if you don’t talk to me. Are you good with that?”
Rafe saw the big figure fling the woman around. He heard her muffled cry of pain.
Silently, Rafe eased open the window. His primary duty was to protect the hostages. Somehow he had to separate the man from his wife and child.
“Look, I’m putting a case of Coke near the front door. I brought you some pizza and some tacos, too. It’s all I could manage on short notice, but I figure you must be hungry. The pizza is nice and hot. It’s here on the porch, whenever you want it. I’m going back to my car now. Just so you know.”
Rafe’s mouth twitched. Tom Wilkinson looked and sounded like a man who didn’t have a care in the world, like a law enforcement officer who was a little short on brains. But Rafe knew that this was exactly the right thing to say. He had lowered the threat level and offered something to the hostage taker without being asked.
The man inside didn’t answer, but Rafe saw the two figures move awkwardly toward the door. The woman was still locked tightly against the man’s chest, but Rafe saw her lean against the wall, nearly falling as the man opened the front door slightly and then grabbed at the food outside.
He swung the door shut immediately, then leaned down, clearly searching through the bags that Tom had left.
The woman was too close. Rafe still did not have a clear shot. He let the wind move over him and felt the cold metal beneath his hands while he waited, deep in a zone of focus that could last for hours.
“You got the food. That’s good. If you want anything else, you just tell me. All you have to do is call out. I can hear you.”
Suddenly the woman spun around, staggering toward the back of the room. The man charged after her and Rafe saw his hands swing out in a slashing blow.
Her scream of pain was cut short as the man str
uck her again and then again.
She seemed to stagger. The man struggled to hold her and then half carried her along the wall. With her still locked against him, he leaned down and seemed to be digging for something on the ground.
Rafe heard the unmistakable sound of a round being loaded into a chamber.
“Talking’s done. I’m going to kill her.” The man inside shouted at the front door, “I’m going to kill her and then I’ll kill that kid of hers.” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion and fury. “You listening out there, Pop? That’s what I’m going to do. There’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
From his position near the window, Rafe could hear the woman’s low, broken sobs. Somewhere in the house a child continued to wail.
Rafe didn’t move, waiting for a clear shot.
The man inside shouted at the front door. “It’s too late.”
The wind whined. Seconds became hours.
The man raised an arm. “She didn’t wait. Another man lives here. Their house now. Their kid, upstairs howling. It’s her fault that they’re all going to die. I told her what would happen. I told her to wait.” The words reached a crescendo of fury. “Say goodbye to all of them. To that deputy, too, back in the closet, bleeding out.” He swung the woman around, wrenching her neck sideways as if she was a doll. “I told you to wait!”
The words echoed through the house as the man struck again.
This time the woman twisted, kicking upward in blind anger and desperate fear, and the man’s hold broke, just for a moment. The two figures separated.
Rafe relaxed his shoulder.
Hands calm. Body floating. A heartbeat became a lifetime.
And then he took the shot.
* * *
OLIVIA WAS IN the front seat when she heard a man yell from inside the house, then the terrified cry of a woman. Something thumped hard. Another scream.
Why didn’t they do something? Anything?
A rifle split the silence. Two fast shots. Boom-boom!
Olivia’s hands locked in her lap.
A woman keened. Wind gusted through the woods as a police car passed without lights or sirens. An ambulance pulled up behind Walker’s Jeep.
Butterfly Cove Page 20
