“Don’t be so sure,” Jack retorted. “A predator doesn’t need the kind of motive you or I might recognize. And there are other motives that might not be obvious. A grudge, for instance. What about former tenants? Did your mother report any problems?”
“No. Everybody’s lived here for at least two years.”
“Are any of them unstable? I presume your mom ran a credit check, right?”
She nodded. “I hope you’re not planning to give them the third degree! They’re not just renters, they’re friends.”
“I’d like a list of their names,” he said calmly. “I’ll start interviewing them first thing tomorrow. Trust me, I know how to debrief witnesses without antagonizing them.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.” Casey supposed she shouldn’t be throwing roadblocks in his path, but Jack’s hard-nosed attitude put her back up. Besides, her attacker had to be a stranger.
“Tomorrow afternoon then,” he countered. “Don’t tell me they spend the entire day in prayer and seclusion.”
“This isn’t a monastery!”
“That much would be obvious to anyone looking at you.” Grinning crookedly, he reached out and took her hands. Casey saw his gaze fall on the wedding ring she wore.
Did he think she still considered herself married? She only wore the ring because of her condition, but let him think whatever he liked.
Besides, a glow was spreading through her as his thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. He smelled of masculine aftershave lotion, which reminded Casey of how she used to enjoy burying her face in his thick hair and trailing her mouth down to the corner of his jaw. It had always made him catch his breath and lean toward her…
…Just as he was doing now, so close their foreheads nearly touched. She ought to draw back. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. She didn’t want to give herself the wrong impression, either.
Her shift of position must have put pressure on her abdomen, because Diane kicked. Startled, Casey pulled back. “Ow!”
Worry deepened the faint lines around Jack’s mouth. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “The baby let me know she doesn’t like being squeezed. It didn’t hurt. She just startled me.”
He frowned. “You said ‘she.’ Does that mean you had one of those tests?”
Casey nodded. “It’s a girl. I’m naming her Diane.”
“That’s a nice name.” Releasing her hands, he flexed his shoulders. “I think I’ll eat that food now. Then I’ll take a stroll around the premises. I’d like to see how things look in the dark.”
She decided not to argue, although the question of whether Jack was staying here and for how long remained unresolved. Right now, she felt too relaxed.
After he went out, instructing her to lock the door behind him, Casey remembered what he’d said about this possibly being someone she knew. She preferred to speculate that it might be a transient camping out on vacant land in the area. If so, she hoped Jack would find him soon.
Maybe this visit hadn’t been such a bad idea, as long as they kept it short. Like it or not, he was Diane’s biological father. Someday their daughter would want to meet him and establish a relationship.
When that day came, maybe he’d remember sitting here learning about her for the first time. It might make him a little more welcoming.
For their daughter’s sake, Casey hoped so.
* * *
JACK’S PATROL DIDN’T turn up anything suspicious. It did reveal how exposed the cabins were, however.
The few exterior lighting fixtures left plenty of shadows, and no lampposts brightened the twilit footpaths. Prowling through the darkness, he could see right into most of the four units through their flimsy curtains. They didn’t even have fences to stop someone from crossing through the yards.
If it weren’t so expensive, he’d recommend installing surveillance cameras. But that, he admitted silently, might be overkill.
While he tried to keep his mind on the job, his impressions from the past hour kept drifting back. He still couldn’t fully grasp the fact that he’d gotten Casey pregnant eight months ago. All this time, his child had been growing inside her, and he’d had no clue.
His child. A little girl. Diane.
He couldn’t figure out how to integrate the idea of her into his worldview. Certainly he bore the tyke no hard feelings, even though she’d sprung into being against his wishes. And he knew he had moral and legal obligations to her. But what exactly was he supposed to do?
It wasn’t as if he had any role models to draw on. His own father had loved only one thing: alcohol.
He’d lost job after job because of it, and beaten his wife and little boy in a rage when he was drunk. Jack had learned early how to stay out of Pop’s way. He hadn’t been big enough to defend his mom and she’d never mustered the strength to stand up for herself. When she became sick, Pop had disappeared. Later, he’d landed in prison.
The last time Jack had heard from his father, while he was in college, it had been with a request for cash. Knowing what the money would be spent on, he’d refused. A few years later, his father had died from alcohol poisoning.
Maybe he should have suffered regrets. The only thing he’d regretted had been his father’s complete failure in relation to his family.
Jack knew he wasn’t like his old man. He rarely drank, and he would die before he’d hurt Casey or her child. Just thinking about how defenseless they were made his fists clench in a protective gesture.
The problem was, although he knew theoretically what a father was supposed to be like, he didn’t have it in him. Maybe the instincts lay buried, but the prospect of digging them out got him tangled up with frustration and pain, old emotions he tried hard to put behind him.
He could still hear the sarcasm darkening Pop’s voice when his irritation level began to rise. He remembered the explosions and his mother’s fear, along with his own terror and misplaced sense of guilt. The old wounds had never fully healed. Jack didn’t intend to rip them open again.
Grimly, he finished tracing the perimeter of the cleared part of Casey’s property and turned back. From the rental car, he collected his suitcase and laptop and let himself inside with a key he’d borrowed from Casey.
When he entered, the living room lay quiet. Instead of loud music or the blare of a TV, only a soft humming from the direction of the bedrooms broke the peace.
“Casey?” he called. “In here.”
Pushing past his reluctance, Jack walked through a short hall and entered the nursery. Casey stood ratcheting a teddy-bear mobile onto the crib. When she saw him, she pushed a button on the device, setting off a music-box version of “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”
His wife smiled as tinkling music filled the room. Tiny teddy bears revolved, their furry paws outstretched as if eager for Diane’s arrival. You couldn’t have shot a better commercial for home and happiness, Jack thought with an ache.
At the first foster home he’d gone to, when he was eleven, he’d walked into a nursery where the parents’ own six-month-old sat cooing and playing with a clown mobile. He didn’t remember the tune, but it had made him long for his mother.
The foster parents had rushed in and ordered him out as if he posed a threat to their precious offspring. He was never to go in there again, the man had snapped. They’d set up a cot for him in the sewing room; that was his place.
He’d learned later that that couple had never cared for foster children before and had taken him in because they needed money. They hadn’t been prepared for the moodiness of a preadolescent, for his flashes of anger or even for his poor table manners.
Jack knew many foster parents provided loving care, sometimes adopting the children. He hadn’t been so lucky. The six months he’d spent in that first house had made it agonizingly clear he didn’t belong.
Every time he’d heard music from the nursery, the sound had underscored the fact that he no longer had a home and probably never would. He’d
had to harden himself to hold back the tears, as he was doing now.
Casey misread his reaction. “You don’t have to glare at me! Anyone else would be glad I’d set up such a nice welcome for the baby.”
“You’ve done a great job,” he muttered.
“You might try to sound as if you mean it.”
He could see that she’d put in a lot of work. She’d painted the place and probably stenciled those birds on the wall herself. The yellow-and-white color scheme, the shelves holding a couple of leather-bound classics—who could ask for more?
Not Jack. What he’d asked for was less. “I can’t change how I feel, so let’s not argue about it,” he told her. “Do you want to hear my preliminary observations about the property?”
“Sure.” She closed her tool kit. Some of his strain eased as they exited through the hall.
After stowing her tools in her office, Casey led the way into the old-fashioned kitchen, where the lingering scent of baking soothed Jack’s spirit. He’d loved spending time in the kitchen while they were living together.
Without asking, she poured them both decaf coffee. He would have preferred the regular version but didn’t want to impose.
“Shoot,” she said.
No need to consult his notes. “To start, you need better lighting. Also, I’d recommend you consider fencing the yards.”
“Unless I put up barbed wire, a prowler could go over it or through the gate.” She dosed her cup with cream and sugar and served his black, the way he liked it. “I don’t see that it would do much good.”
“It’s partly psychological,” Jack explained. “It provides a sense of containment. It also gives an intruder pause because it can slow down his escape.” He found the brew more flavorful than expected. Or maybe he simply enjoyed it because this was Casey’s house.
“I can’t afford to build fences, anyway,” she said. “That’s not a request for money. It’s a statement of fact.”
He knew better than to argue. “I don’t suppose you can afford to put up lighting along the footpaths, either.”
“You got that right.” She still seemed remote and almost combative. Apparently his attitude toward the nursery had set her off.
Jack refused to apologize. He’d warned her how he would likely react to a baby, although he hadn’t been specific. “If you can’t afford lighting and fences, you certainly can’t afford guards.”
“I suppose not.” She propped her elbows on the table. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I called you for a recommendation. I felt so mad about getting sprayed, I couldn’t think straight.”
Maybe, he thought, she’d subconsciously hoped he would come. But he knew better than to count on it. “My next suggestion is to organize your tenants into patrols. Two-person teams carrying cell phones. Not twenty-four hours a day, obviously, but during the evening when this guy’s most likely to show up.”
“One guy’s in his eighties and Enid’s in her seventies. I don’t want them trying to play super cop,” Casey said. “Plus even my more able-bodied tenants could break an ankle trying to patrol these woods in the dark.”
“There’s one more choice.”
“And it is?”
“You’re going to have to put up with me until I find this guy.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but, as I said before, I think you should leave as soon as possible.”
“Last night, you were ready to do whatever it took to nail this louse. You felt desperate enough to call on your almost-ex-husband, and we both know that’s pretty desperate.” Jack hoped a little humor might soften her resistance, but he saw no change in her attitude. “Now I find out you’re pregnant and more vulnerable than ever, but you’re backing off. Let me run this guy down.”
It seemed the least he could do. A man didn’t abandon his wife when she needed him, even if she’d abandoned him first.
Casey rested her chin on her fist. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her cheek.
“Let’s be honest,” she said.
“I’ve never been anything else.”
“You don’t want to stay,” she said. “You feel obligated. You hate being here, hate being around anything that reminds you of babies. I can read you like a book, Jack. You’re going to make us both miserable.”
He couldn’t claim otherwise, so he ignored her point. “Pretend I’m some hired hand who’s here to do a job. Then you won’t care whether I go gaga over nursery stuff.”
“No.”
“That’s it? Just plain no?”
“Try this: nyet, nein, no way. Is that clear enough?”
He could be just as stubborn as she. “I’m not leaving until we wrap this up.”
“I’ll get a restraining order.” Casey folded her arms. “Well?”
Jack didn’t think she’d do it but he knew better than to push her. “Is that what you really want? You’re so eager to get rid of me you’re willing to risk having this guy keep bugging you?”
Her lips formed a thin, stubborn line. Finally she said, “I don’t even think it’s a good idea for you to stay a day or two.”
“Casey!” She was so stubborn, she made mules look compliant. Jack came very close to saying so.
“I’ll let you stay tonight because it’s getting late, but that’s all. Really, the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s probably just a neighbor’s kid,” she told him. “Nothing’s been stolen or damaged except for that mailbox, which might not even be connected. It’s not that serious. I overreacted.”
An assault on a pregnant woman seemed serious enough to Jack, but he’d run out of arguments. Before he could decide how to proceed, his cell phone rang.
Excusing himself, he answered. “Arnett.”
“Jack? It’s Mike.” His partner sounded frazzled. “I’ve got to run up to San Francisco for a couple of days.” He mentioned a client there who needed a security upgrade. “The problem is, I’ve got an appointment Monday with Paul Mendez. You remember him?”
“Sure.” Paul planned to retire in another month from the Denver police department. He’d expressed interest in joining Men at Arms as a partner, and they could certainly use one.
They had a growing staff of guards assigned to various clients, and added other employees as needed, sometimes on a temporary basis. A manager, an administrative assistant and an accountant handled the paperwork. The partners themselves planned and supervised all major operations, as well as trouble-shooting to keep their clients happy.
“Well, he’s going to be in town and wants to go over the financial details. Since you’re back, I was hoping you could take care of it.”
“I’m not exactly back,” Jack admitted. Casey, who’d carried their empty cups to the sink, glanced at him wryly.
“Where are you?”
“Tennessee. A prowler assaulted Casey on her property.” He saw no point in mentioning the pregnancy.
“I see.” He probably didn’t, though. A twice-divorced workaholic, Mike always put business ahead of family. “We really ought to attend to this. We both like Paul and it helps that he’s bilingual.” An increasing amount of their business involved Spanish-speaking clients.
Jack’s gut instinct told him to fight harder to resolve this case, but he did have an obligation to his company. Also, Casey was standing right there mouthing the word, “Go!”
He shook his head.
“Restraining order!” she hissed.
For heaven’s sake, why fight her? If she didn’t want him, he had no business forcing his company on her.
“Okay,” he said into the phone. “I’ll catch a plane tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I knew I….” The phone went dead.
Jack frowned. “It cut off.”
“Happens all the time around here,” Casey replied. “My service provider claims I live in a dead spot.”
His gut urged Jack to stay to protect this woman. And this baby, even though he hadn’t asked for it. But he’d b
e kidding himself if he imagined that sticking around would make any difference to their future.
Maybe she was right that she’d overreacted. After all, she hadn’t received any threats. Most likely some bum seeking shelter had panicked when she aimed a camera at him.
“All right,” he conceded grimly. “Tomorrow morning, I’m out of here.”
“We’ll both be a lot happier,” Casey said.
Jack seriously doubted it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Casey went to bed early and slept deeply, lulled by maternal hormones. About 3:00 a.m., she awoke with an urgent need to use the bathroom.
She slipped out into the hallway in her cotton sleep shirt. After using the facilities, she couldn’t resist peeking into the living room, where Jack slept on the opened couch.
Moonlight through the window highlighted the length of his body beneath the quilt and played across his ruffled hair. The room filled with his subtle presence and the murmur of his breathing.
Her body burned with the memory of sleeping beside him, feeling his legs tangle with hers and his arm brush across her breasts. Sometimes they’d awakened, not even knowing what hour it was, and sleepily caressed each other until passion flamed.
Yet, despite their years together, he seemed exotic, as if she’d discovered a lion dozing in the living room. Jack came from a different world, one that she’d never fully understood. Although she knew his parents had died and that he’d spent his adolescence in foster homes, he disliked discussing the past.
Why should the sight of a nursery or the sound of a music box make a man glower? To Casey, those things spoke of happiness and innocence. They took her back to a simpler time when she’d been loved without reserve and when the future held unlimited possibilities.
It saddened her to realize the two of them lacked common ground. She’d loved Jack more than she would have believed possible, and she’d longed for their marriage to work. But it was no use hanging onto something that couldn’t be fixed.
The Baby's Bodyguard Page 4
