by Vella Day
She lightly punched him. “Way to calm me down. I’m devastated over Yolanda’s death, and I’m petrified that I might be next. You really think they’d find me here?”
Max yanked her to his chest. “Shh. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.”
He was too wonderful. She didn’t even want to think about why he had such a strong protective streak. He still might feel guilty about his wife’s death.
She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
She then stepped over to the counter and picked up the lone coffee cup. Max had his in his hand.
He nodded as if he understood this was equally hard for her. “I’m going to take a shower, and then we can hit a drive-through for some breakfast.”
“I’d like that.” She sipped her coffee. She wasn’t sure how long he wanted her to stay with him. Was last night it? Or would she be here until this case was solved?
“You want me to pack my things?” She held her breath, hoping he said no.
“It’ll be safer if you stay here until we figure out what’s going on.” With that, he went back toward the bedroom.
That made her feel better. Max was so much more experienced than she was.
He rushed down the hallway, and Jamie took a moment to look around. Last night, she’d been too upset to notice much. His kitchen wasn’t any bigger than hers, but it was a lot neater. Maybe it was because he didn’t fix many meals in there.
The shower turned on, and Jamie wandered back into the living room. She expected to see some pictures of his wife and child, but there weren’t any. What a shame if his photos had burned in the fire.
Not wanting him to think she was snooping, she plopped down on the sofa. His place wasn’t overly big, but there was enough room to enjoy a movie and have friends over. She liked that the furniture wasn’t the typical black-leather-bachelor style stuff. The colors were muted and serene, almost as if a former girlfriend or sister had chosen the furniture. Jamie didn’t see Max the type to take the time to pick out pieces that matched. He was too much of a guy. No artwork was on the walls either, which she found curious. Why did only some parts of the house look like a decorator had a hand?
The water stopped less than five minutes later, and she cut off her musings. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d be quick. Two minutes later, Max emerged with wet hair, looking like he’d come from a photo shoot. In the short time he’d been gone, he’d managed to shave. Max had on a black button-down shirt, dark jeans, and cowboy boots. The man certainly wore clothes well.
“Ready?” he said.
Jamie jumped up. “Yes.”
She slipped on her coat that she’d tossed on the chair last night, and slung her purse over her shoulder. Once he locked up, she trudged behind him to his car. The wind was whipping hard through the trees, but the cold wasn’t affecting her like it normally did. She was too numb to feel the biting chill. It was as if she was a drone, moving in whatever direction Max told her to.
She knew the symptoms. She could feel herself sliding into the abyss of despair. Between Jonathan’s injury, being chased by two bad men, having her friend scared out of her wits because of a stalker, and then two people she cared about be murdered, Jamie was losing the battle to keep in control.
She forced herself to remember the last time her anger had grabbed hold. That had been a good feeling. It had meant she was alive. Damn, but she couldn’t find that emotion. Fear and confusion were now her constant companion. But she couldn’t give up. She had to claw her way to the surface, one breath at a time.
“Jamie? Get in, please.”
Max had opened the door, and yet, she hadn’t realized he’d even touched the handle. Not being aware of her surroundings could be her downfall. She had to keep focused. “Sorry.”
Not that she had any intention of even trying to solve Yolanda’s murder, but if she could help in some small way, she wanted to try. Max climbed in the car and started the engine. As he pulled away, she took the time to study his house. It appeared to be situated on a couple of acres backed up against a forest. The one-story, wood-framed house had a wide front porch, but there were no chairs to make it look cozy. The grass was winter brown, but the evergreens along both sides gave the place life.
Once he turned onto the main road, his gaze darted between the side view and rearview mirrors. While she understood he was only trying to protect them, it wasn’t helping to calm her stomach.
As promised, Max stopped at the fast food place for some breakfast, and he insisted they dine inside. Jamie tried to eat everything, but her stomach wasn’t in the mood. Fortunately, Max didn’t bug her about her lack of appetite. It was if he’d been in her shoes before.
Once they arrived at the station, the hustle and bustle of the place helped settle her wild thoughts. The men’s laughter sounded good to her ears. They were joking with each other as they cleaned their truck, seemingly oblivious to what had happened at the clinic last night.
“Do you want to sit in the break room, or at a desk next to my office?” Max asked.
The men might feel self-conscious talking if she were there. “Near you.”
“Come this way.” With his hand on the small of her back, he led her toward the rear of the building.
Her worry eased knowing so many men were around to keep them safe. When they stepped through a door, silence surrounded them. A glassed-in room lined the back wall with two desks in front. One had a ton of paper on it, the other sat empty.
Max nodded toward the empty desk. “Make yourself at home. This was my old desk, but Brandon Caulfield will be arriving next Monday.”
She’d forgotten about the interview. “Rich must have liked him.”
“He did.”
Jamie sat in Max’s former chair. It was too large for her, but she enjoyed that it swiveled and rocked.
He slid a hip on the edge of the desk. From his relaxed posture, it was as if he wanted to talk about something other than what had transpired last night. “Since you asked about the new hire, I thought you’d like to know that Brandon played pro ball for one season before he blew out his knee.”
Jamie wanted to lose herself in the story—anything to forget why she was there. “I can’t imagine working that hard all through school, only to have your hopes dashed in one second.” Amber told her that Max had taken a bullet to his leg when he’d been a cop, and yet he hadn’t let his injury stop him from pursuing his second career. She didn’t know what a football injury had to do with being a fire inspector, but she was happy Max was willing to share. “What happened then?”
“After Brandon rehabilitated his knee, he quit the team. Decided to take a different career path—that of being a firefighter. Said his dad had been one, as well as had his father before him, so he wanted to join the ranks. It was in his blood.”
“He sounds perfect. I bet you’ll be glad for the help.” When she changed jobs from being a hospice nurse to working in the clinic, there had been an adjustment. Max was probably going through the same thing.
“You can’t imagine.” His cell rang, and he stiffened. Max eased off his old desk. “Gruden.”
He nodded then walked into his office where she couldn’t hear the conversation.
“Damn.”
Chapter Fifteen
When Max answered his cell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what his friend had to say. “Hey, Trent.”
“We found the man who followed Becky.” Relief filled his voice.
That hadn’t been what Max expected Trent to call about, but he was thrilled. “Can you link him to a local cell?” Max twisted in his seat to make sure Jamie couldn’t read his lips. The whole idea that domestic terrorists existed in town needed to be kept quiet.
“We know his name because he has a record, but we can’t link him to any terrorist cell. The mayor said he’d send the information to his FBI contact, and let them tell us whether the man is dangerous.”
“You’re detaining him,
I trust?”
“Yes, and he’s demanding a lawyer, so there’s little hope we’ll learn much. We don’t really have anything to hold him on since the man didn’t speak with Becky or touch her. It’s her word against his. I’m just hoping the FBI comes through for us.”
“Me, too. What about the clinic workers? Are they going to be safe?”
“Yes. We’ve got that covered. Hold on a sec.” Voices sounded but Max couldn’t tell what they were saying. “That was Dan. Seems our invisible FBI team is going to pick up this dude. He’s one of the men that Vic Hart had previously pointed a finger at as being involved. This was the first time he’d surfaced.”
Max slumped back in his seat. He wasn’t sure if that eased or increased his anxiety. If this terrorist cell had targeted Becky Andrews, it seemed more likely that Jamie was involved, too. Only how? “Does Becky know?”
“I’m about to call her as soon as I hang up.”
“Good. I’ll speak with Jamie again about what she and Becky did that night. Since a few days have passed, her memory might have cleared.”
“Good. Let me know.”
“By the way, I asked Jamie to stay with me to make sure she remains out of harm’s way.”
“She was okay with that?”
Max hadn’t discussed their new intimate status. “Yes. Let’s leave it at that.” Trent whistled. Right now, Max’s concern was Jamie. “Did the Feds give you any odds on the likelihood these men might attack again?” He hoped the FBI had told the mayor something.
Max glanced through the office window at Jamie sitting at his desk, reading. Her presence helped him stay focused.
“So far, the Feds haven’t been forthcoming with shit, but we can always hope. My men and I plan to speak with the other clinic employees, but I’m not getting my hopes up that they know anything. Was Jamie able to give you any insight?”
“No. She’s stunned right now. It seems as if she and her boss got along well. Jamie’s torn up about her death.”
“I’m sorry. You planning on her staying with you until this stuff is over?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll keep pushing from my end. We’ll get the bastards.” Trent rang off.
Because Jamie had glanced his way a few times, he needed to tell her the man after Becky had been caught. He pushed back his chair and strode out. “I have the tiniest bit of good news.”
She straightened. “I’ll take a crumb.”
Since Rich hadn’t come into work yet, Max pulled over his chair and sat next to her. “They caught the man following Becky.”
Her face brightened, but it wasn’t enough to erase the tension lining her eyes. “That’s wonderful. Who was he?”
Jamie had guessed that her friend might be an undercover agent, but she hadn’t hinted that she knew anything about why Jonathan was in Rock Hard. Max needed to keep her in the dark a bit longer.
“We know the man’s name, and that he has a record, but that’s all. He’s lawyered up. The important thing is that he can’t hurt Becky anymore.”
Jamie closed her eyes for a moment. Max didn’t like the deep shadows under her lids, or how her skin pulled tight across her cheeks. They’d stopped at a fast food place for breakfast, but she’d only picked at her food. When he’d been in the depths of despair, food held no interest for him either.
“Does she know the good news?” Some life filled her face.
“Trent is about to call her. That was him on the phone.” Max leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Can you take me through the evening from when you arrived at Banner’s Bar to when Becky called you that night?”
“We already told you everything.”
He hadn’t meant to cause her more anxiety. “I know, honey, but can you go through it again? For me?” The last two words did the trick. He saw the moment his plea caused her to relent.
“Fine, but there’s nothing there.”
He squeezed her hand once. “That’s okay. Let me decide.” When he was in cop mode, the malaise that seemed to follow him, lessened.
“I’ll admit I was a little shaken from my car breaking down and from the first break-in, so I was careful to watch where I was going. I even checked for black vans.”
His senses sharpened. “Did you see anyone suspicious?”
She huffed. “The streets looked like a black van convention. I saw a few parked on the street and one or two drive by. One of the drivers even wore a cap. As if that made him different from the rest of the Rock Hard men.” She huffed out a laugh.
Jamie didn’t seem to think that was important, but he did. “Keep going.”
“When Becky showed up, I gave her a present I’d found for her. Then another friend, Lydia Sayers arrived, and we all went in.”
“Did you recognize any of the men in the bar?”
That got a laugh out of her. “I was there to talk with my friends, not scope out the place for a date.”
Her comment made him feel better. Jamie was just trying to survive.
“Then what?”
“Then nothing. We chatted and Zoey offered to drive me home. She said she had a hot date with Thad and Pete.”
He’d heard what happened after that. “That’s good.”
She leaned forward. “Does it help?”
“That’s one thing about police work. Nothing seems to help until the pieces come together. Then it can be the link that unlocks the case.”
Rich came in and abruptly stopped when he spotted Jamie. He raised a brow. “Good morning. It’s Jamie, right?”
“Yes.”
Rich had seen her when she’d come to the first crime scene. Max gave the formal introduction. “Jamie’s friend is Jonathan Rambler—the one who was caught in the fire.”
Max raised his brows hoping Rich would get the clue to keep quiet. Max hadn’t let his assistant in on the fact there were domestic terrorists in Rock Hard. The information would be doled out on a need-to-know basis.
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you.”
Max stood and looked down at Jamie, who seemed so small and lost. He wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay, but he wasn’t one to lie. “I need to get back to work. I didn’t bring anything from home to eat, so we’ll have to do lunch out.”
Jamie’s lips lifted for a moment, clearly seeing through his lie. “Sure. I’ll sit here and read.”
* * *
On the way to lunch at Italiano’s, she and Max agreed not to talk about the tragedy, believing anyone overhearing the conversation might become frightened. Their meal was a bit strained, as they both seemed lost in their own thoughts. Jamie wanted to face what was happening, but she didn’t know the whole truth. She understood Max couldn’t tell her anything more about Jonathan’s connection to all this crime until he’d filed some kind of paperwork.
The meal wasn’t a total loss, however. One nice thing about Max eating the same restaurant every day was that people knew him. A few knew Jamie, too. Several stopped at their table and offered their condolences about the deaths at the clinic. It was nice to know so many people cared.
After they ate, he drove her back to the station, where she resumed her position at his desk. Being a lump on a log was okay for one day, but she couldn’t sit and do nothing tomorrow. The silence would drive her crazy, not to mention the growing fear that these murderers were still out there.
Finally, five o’clock rolled around, and Max said they could leave. From what Rich told her, Max usually stayed at work until long after he was gone. She really appreciated that Max was willing put her needs above his work.
Assuming Max didn’t have other plans, once they got back to his house, she wanted to sit with him and watch old movies—assuming he was into that kind of thing.
“Ready to chow?” Max asked, as he came out of his office.
“I’m not really hungry.” Max lowered his chin. “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”
He smiled and her insides stirred. “Th
at’s my girl.”
Ever since Max had come over to her house to listen to Becky’s story, Jamie had begun to believe that Max just might consider her to be his girl. If she wasn’t such a mess emotionally, she’d have been overjoyed.
“Italiano’s okay?”
She laughed. “Yes, but someday, I’ll have to break you of that habit.”
“I like the someday part.”
Heat raced up her face. She hadn’t meant to imply they had a future, but she would be amenable.
They sat at Max’s usual spot, and she ordered the ravioli again. The meal tasted okay, but Jamie didn’t have much of an appetite and picked at her food. Max didn’t eat with his usual gusto either.
As they nibbled, her mind kept darting between subjects. During her musings, she remembered Sasha asking her about Max’s family, and if he had a spare brother. Jamie had called Sasha from the firehouse. Her friend wasn’t doing much better than Jamie was. Perhaps if Sasha had someone to take her mind off her troubles, she’d heal faster.
Jamie washed down the food with her coffee. “I never asked, but are you from around here? I know you said your dad worked at a paper mill, and that your folks retired to Florida, but I never asked the name of the town.” Just because he went to the junior college in town, didn’t mean he was born and raised in Rock Hard.
Max hesitated, almost as if he wondered why the sudden interest. “I am a native.”
Perhaps that was why everyone seemed to know him. “Do your siblings still live here?”
“Trying to see if there are any skeletons in my closet?”
Thank God he was back into flirting mode. It helped her cope. “Totally.”
A small smile emerged, as if he might be pleased she was taking an interest in something other than the tragedy. “Sam and Amelia still live in town. Sam, who’s thirty-six, works at the paper mill. He’s in management now. Wouldn’t be surprised if they make him manager of the whole damned place someday.”
The pride in his voice was evident. “And Amelia?”
“Mel, as we call her, is the baby at thirty-three. She’s been married and divorced, and only now is getting her life together. Despite some of her issues, she was a huge help to me after the fire.”
