Risky Alliance

by N. C. Anderson

  “He came back, didn't he?” she said, voicing the reason for the sudden chill that ran the length of her spine. A vision of Karen's face appeared in her mind, and with it came anger plus the desire to see the guy punished—to punish him herself. “The sonofabitch who hurt Karen was here when you came in.” Waking to see Jacob flying over her coffee table was an apparition she hoped would not become a new nightmare.

  Reluctantly, Jacob let his hands fall to his sides. Cursing either at or about people was something new to hear from his Babe. He hid his surprise. “Well, I sure-as-hell chased someone out the bedroom window.” He gestured at the gleaming white coffeepot as he stepped to the counter. “How about we sit while you tell me what's going on around here.” After filling the two mugs she'd placed on the counter, he set them on the table and pulled a chair out for her.

  “I'd rather go in the other room,” she said, grateful for the breathing space. Demanding herself to cool off, Sue took the coffee mugs from the table and walked with Jacob to the living room where she handed him his. The potent feeling of animosity was completely new to her and frightened her into shoving it to the back of her mind. She would deal with it later—when she had time to pick it apart, digest it. “To begin with, I came home to a disaster this morning.” As she sat on her chair, she watched him lower his towel-clad body onto the couch near her. “The street was full of police cars and fire engines. The ambulance scared me the most.” She told him about later visiting Karen in the emergency room and the verbal warnings Karen's attacker had left while beating her. “I found nothing missing, Jacob. And, you're the only snoop with any connection to my apartment,” she finished.

  He had to have been mistaken about her furious reaction. The flush in her cheeks had disappeared, and her voice sounded normal. “I suppose it was all over the television screen,” he stated. “All over the screen, and telling the culprit he had missed his mark.” Most of his clients knew nothing about his marital status; let alone where Sue and the kids lived. So, since a client wouldn't attack his family, it could have been ... a client's enemy? Perhaps. He had three cases going at the moment, not counting Delaney. To his knowledge, the people he had helped ship to prison were all still there. Even before he'd heard the ominous snoop message, instinct had told him that the mess his house was in and what had happened here was not merely a fluke. Someone had long arms and a deadly attitude.

  “I thought about that when I saw myself on the news. I was really hoping that if the man saw the news, he wouldn't notice me in the crowd.” Feeling shaky, she gripped her mug with both hands and sipped the hot brew. “I guess he did, after all."

  “How did you know I was chasing someone? Did you hear him?"

  Sue shook her head. “No, you're the only person I saw and heard. But I followed you, and there're muddy foot prints going both ways down the hallway, and leading directly to the open window in Michael's room.” She stared at him for a moment. “Do you think he might have used the same window this morning?” Rubbing her forehead with her fingertips, she added, “I'm sure Karen wouldn't have let him in the front door—she would have remembered. Whoever it was, surprised her—terrified her—"

  “Was it raining this morning?” Jacob interrupted.

  “No, we've been having dry weather until this evening."

  “Then there wouldn't have been mud all over this morning.” He placed his mug on the coffee table, leaned forward, and fought the frustration that urged him to take hold of her slender shoulders and shake them. “If you thought this guy might come back,” he grumbled, “why the hell are you still here?” He studied the flush building in her cheeks. “I've told you the possibilities for a perp to return to a crime scene."

  Recognizing the anxiety in his tone of voice, Sue rose from her chair and lifted his mug with her free hand. She didn't bother to deny knowing what he was talking about. “I meant to leave right after I packed the suit cases.” She sighed, watching the muscles in his tanned arm flex; watching the soft, dark hair on his broad chest ripple with his breathing; lord, she wished he had left his clothes on. “But I sat down to rest for a moment.” Shrugging her shoulders, she added, “I fell asleep, J.T. Quit looking at me like that. I didn't do it on purpose.”

  He stood up too. “Come here,” he ordered gently, placing his hand on her arm and leading her toward the hallway. “Is that Michael's racket?"

  For the first time Sue saw the tennis racket lying on the carpet and a smudge above it on the wall. “Where did that come from?"

  Jacob turned to her, gritting his teeth until his jaw hurt. “The sonofabitch was carrying it. I'm sure he intended using it on you. But when he saw me, he chucked it."

  First was the blatant warbling of a siren out front, then only seconds later came a loud hammering on the door with a shouted, “Police. Open up, or we'll break down the door.”

  Jacob noticed Sue's stunned expression. “Take it easy, Babe, it's just the cops,” Jacob said, heading for the laundry cove. “Keep them in the living room until I get my pants on."

  While working to get a grip on herself, Sue opened the door to find two patrolmen with their guns drawn. “There was a prowler, but everything's fine in here,” she said quickly, hoping neither of them was trigger-happy. They looked nervous to her.

  They pushed past her into the foyer and stopped. The biggest one kept looking around as he talked. “A Mister Gier called 911, saying a prowler was running around the building,” the one with Harvey on his nametag stated. “We met Gier out front, and he said the man ran away from your rear window, then came in through the front door."

  “We know a woman was attacked in this apartment this morning,” the other officer added. “There's a plaque outside the front that says manager's office. Are you the manager?”

  Sgt. was on the nametag over his shield, but Sue wasn't about to try and pronounce his name. She gestured toward the kitchen. “My husband and I are the only ones in here, now.” She didn't want them startled when Jacob made an appearance. “And, yes, Sergeant, I'm Sue Campbell, and I'm the manager. The prowler and my husband went out the window. It was my husband who came in the front door. He chased the man, but he got away."

  “That's right, officer,” Jacob said from the kitchen entryway. “I'd just let myself in when I saw the guy with my son's tennis racket in his hand. He dropped it before going back out the bedroom window."

  “How come you didn't phone in?"

  As she watched Jacob start to shrug, Sue said, “Shock. We were getting ready to when you showed up. It's only been a few minutes—"

  “Okay,” Harvey interrupted, holstering his weapon. Harvey moved toward Jacob. “Where's the racket. Maybe we can get prints."

  “I doubt it,” Jacob said, pointing at the racket on the hallway floor. “The man was wearing gloves. He also had a ski mask over his head and wore a black windbreaker.” He finished buttoning his shirt. The masked man didn't act much like a professional, Jacob thought. He had displayed too much fear. Wearing a knit hat in June, and with a price tag flapping around on the back, didn't seem terribly bright either. Jacob decided that the guy probably wasn't one to ski or one much used to winter gear—but he'd sure-as-hell had held a knowing grip on that tennis racket.

  He looked at the patrolmen. “Where would someone buy a heavy ski mask and gloves in Des Moines this time of year?"

  The officers glanced at one another. Harvey said, “I'd have to check around. Stores are pretty much seasonal around here, and the winter stuff is usually off the shelves by the last of April."

  “You aren't from around here are you?” The Sergeant looked suspicious.

  Jacob shook his head. “I live in California."

  “How about showing some ID."

  “We're separated,” Sue threw in as Jacob took his wallet from his briefcase, flipping it open for the cops to view, then handing it to Harvey. “My mother thought I was the one attacked this morning, and called him."

  “Same day's mighty fast,” Harvey said. “What
time did you arrive?"

  “Not so fast,” Jacob supplied. “When you consider that I left before eight this morning and didn't get here until nine tonight. I had delays in LA and Dallas."

  “Can never be too careful,” Officer Harvey said, returning Jacob's wallet to his outstretched hand, “especially after what happened here this morning.” He looked at Sue. “Had to be sure you weren't in some danger we couldn't see.” Harvey turned toward the sergeant. “I'm going to look around outside."

  “We both will,” the Sergeant said, still staring at Jacob. “Why the questions about the stores?"

  “There was a price tag on the guy's hat. Could mean he bought it recently.” Could also mean he wasn't from Iowa, needed a disguise, and wasn't terribly inventive.

  “You seem real observant. You a cop?” The sergeant didn't look amused, or impressed as one dark eyebrow lifted in complete speculation.

  Time, Jacob thought, that he let these guys know this wasn't a game to anyone here. “I'm a private investigator, Sergeant. The idea that some crazy is stalking my family doesn't settle well with me. I believe the man who was here this evening is the same one who was here this morning.” After giving the sergeant name and phone number information, he hesitated. “Did detectives come out here this morning?"

  “Yeah,” the sergeant said. “Three of them."

  “I'd like to speak to the one in charge. I'd like to call him in the morning."

  “Manning's the one in charge. I'll tell him about you when I get back to the station. When we report this incident, he'll probably want to talk to both of you."

  Jacob walked with them to the door. “Thanks, I appreciate it."

  After closing the door, he turned toward Sue. “If you have your things together, let's get out of here. If we're lucky, that masked joker doesn't know anything about your parents, and you'll all be safer there."

  “Where are you going to stay, J.T.?” Her mother would ask him to stay at her house. Sue didn't want to sleep in the same house with Jacob. She wouldn't sleep. Just being this close to him had a disconcerting affect that unbalanced her. He had a way of making her feel bewildered.

  “Unless you have a problem with it, I'd like to stay here in the apartment."

  She breathed easier, but only for a moment. “You're welcome to stay here, but what if that guy comes back?” She might not want to sleep in the same house with him, but she didn't want him in danger.

  “He won't come back.” He retrieved his suitcase from near the front door and placed it beside his briefcase in the living room. He stared at the smaller case for a moment. The case where he had the Delaney file, a completely uninformative copy of the police report, and his vast collection of real estate notes. Instinct told him to take it with him wherever he went. He never ignored that instinct.

  “What makes you so sure?"

  “He knows that you are no longer alone. Karen said the message was for me. He knows I'm here, that I've gotten the message."

  Sue started for the door with two of the three suitcases she intended to take to her mother's house. “I hope you're right, J.T. There's been enough blood spilled in this place.” She looked over her shoulder. “I'm sorry that Mom panicked and called you. She tried to reach you in time, but forgot what a fast mover you can be.” Releasing one case long enough to open the door, she then retrieved it and stepped outside.

  “I know, and it's all right,” he called after her. “Can't think of a place I'd rather be.” Except, he thought, for the circumstances. But there was one positive sign, she had called him J.T., which he hadn't heard her say since the day he was shot in the hip. Grabbing her third case with one hand, he lifted his briefcase with the other and hurried to catch up with her. “Do I follow you, or do you follow me?"

  She couldn't help smiling. Jacob had always let her have options ... always allowed her space. “I'll let you follow me.”

  Jacob spoke again to the two police officers who'd returned to their car, letting them know he and Sue were leaving and where they would each be if Manning wanted to talk before morning. Then he leaned down near the window of her car. “I'm starving. Is there still a fast drive-thru near the mall?” Businesses tended to come and go too quickly to keep track where he lived, let alone knowing about a place he saw once a year at most.

  “Sure,” she answered and laughed and glanced at her watch. “I'll take you there if you'll order me a burger, too. It's nearly eleven, so we have to hurry. I think they roll-up the sidewalk at midnight."

  “Just lead the way,” he said, backing toward his car. “Just lead the way."

  * * * *

  In a yard nearby, and from the vantage point of a fork in the apple tree he had climbed, Clinton could see the cop's flashlights disappear around the corner of the building. He wiped the sweat from his brow with unsteady fingers. He couldn't see over or around the huge garage, but he heard two cars start and breathed easier. Then he heard a third vehicle's engine and knew the police car was pulling away from the front of the apartment house. When all was quiet, he jumped down from the tree and walked slowly across the yard and down the driveway in the direction of the mall.

  Kimba would just have to deal with Campbell when he returned to California. Clinton wasn't a small man, and it galled him that Campbell made him feel like Jack to the Giant. As soon as he returned to the motel, he would call her.

  Knowing Kimba, she would arrange something interesting for Campbell to deal with the moment he stepped off the plane.

  He wondered if she would tell Keats what happened. Probably, but Keats never did anything more than give orders and file papers. Keats was a man who kept his butt well covered.

  * * * *

  A narrow side street separated the entrance for the Burger Barn's drive-thru and the mall. Jacob noticed that one small car occupied the vast, otherwise-empty mall parking lot. He also noticed the words U-Use Me rental around the license plate when he drove past, and memorized the R-JV l on the plate. Instinct again, he thought. But, he never ignored that intuition. It was a habit to repeat this to himself. Once, he had disregarded this innate gift, and it nearly got him killed. And that error of insight placed his family eighteen hundred miles away.

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  Chapter 7

  He noticed the rain had stopped and the clouds were breaking up as he waited in the drive-thru line for the car in front of him to pull away. Unable to stop thinking about the vehicle across the street, Jacob paid for the food, then parked beside Sue.

  He climbed out, opened the passenger door of her car, and sat down beside her. Ignoring her surprised expression he said, “Mind if we eat this sitting here?”

  Having her alone seemed too damned good to be true. He intended to make the most of every minute.

  “No. But we'd be more comfortable at Mom's table.” The Chevy's soft leather front seat had always seemed wide to her, but it suddenly felt as if it shrank to compact. If she wanted, she could reach out and touch his cheek, his lips, his chest. She wanted, but she wasn't going to do it. She'd sworn never to give false hope to either of them. The determination didn't stop her from wishing she could sit on her hands before they acted on their own volition.

  He gestured toward the mall. “See that car over there?"

  Since it was the only one sitting where he pointed, Sue didn't have any problem finding it. She nodded. “Is this a trick question?” Maybe the heavy smell of rain and mud were making him tipsy. After all, native Californian's didn't often get the privilege of experiencing thunderstorms with tornadoes. The poor things, she thought, smiling. She knew how large the hail had been earlier when he'd gone through the window, and hoped he hadn't gotten a concussion.

  Jacob chuckled and handed her a hamburger and a small container of fries. “I just thought we'd watch it while eating our snack.”

  I want this day over, she thought. “Why?” To keep from staring at the always-enticing dimple near his mouth, she turned her attention to the vehicle across the
highway.

  Taking a bite of her sandwich, she realized how hungry she really was, that she'd forgotten to eat since breakfast with the kids that morning.

  He placed two coffees in the cup holder below the dash. “I'm not sure,” he said, popping open the drink-slot on the plastic lid. “If the man who broke into your apartment is from out of town, he might have rented a car like I did. That one has plates that indicate it's rented."

  She sat up straighter, munching a fry, and happy he hadn't wanted to start the personal discussion they would ultimately have before he left Iowa. Jacob's powers of observation always amazed her. It didn't seem possible that he would have any enemies living in Iowa; they would have to be imports. “You don't think he'd be miles from here by now?"

  “Most likely, but I don't think it'll hurt to watch for a while.” He unwrapped his triple burger, his first food in twenty-four hours, and took a bite. Seeing her alive and well and knowing the kids were safely with family had restored his appetite, despite the intruder. If I'd actually caught that guy, we'd be looking for a steak place, he thought, even though he knew there wasn't a chance in hell that they would find one open.

  Jacob tried to disregard the speck of catsup on her lip, tried even harder to overlook her action as her tongue slowly licked it away just as he'd imagined doing the very same thing with his. He drew in a deep breath.

  Determined to keep the conversation going, and in keeping the content away from themselves, she dove into a subject that had been bothering her for days. “How's Dottie doing, J.T.? I phoned her yesterday, but her mom said she felt too ill to speak to anyone."

  “She refuses to believe Robert killed himself. It's tearing her apart, so I told her I'd investigate.” He lifted his coffee cup. “It seems like the kids are holding up pretty well.”

  “Didn't the police look into it?” Sue tried not to stare at his hand holding the cup, nor at the wedding ring he never removed for any reason—since the day they married, he had decided that it would bring bad luck if he took it off. She tried to ignore the thudding in her chest, as if sitting here with him was the most exciting thing she'd done in months. Her heart seemed determined to rule her head.