by Joleen James
Rick remembered the second gunshot, and the next thing he had known, Phil had been untying him, telling him everything was going to be okay.
Hell, he didn't even remember seeing Tony's body. It had taken everything he'd had to work through the pain in his own body.
Who had given Angie up? Was that person still out there, a danger to Rick and Phil? A hard ache settled in Rick's gut.
He needed to get his hands on the police report and see just what the heck Phil had said about that night.
He prayed that Phil would call, and that he could clear up Rick's questions. Yes, he was sure Phil could clear everything up.
Phil had saved his life. Rick owed him.
He'd wait for Phil to call, but in the meantime, he would place a call and get a copy of the police report.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tawney had just finished teaching a dance class at Karma Fitness when she spied Rick from the window.
Wow, she'd missed him. Her heart sped up. Her eyes followed him until he disappeared around the corner.
She hadn't seen him for a couple of days. She'd been lucky enough to have two days off at The Junebug. Working at Karma Fitness suited her fine. She loved teaching the classes, and loved working with Liv. But to her surprise, she missed working with Rick.
"Great class today," Liv said, glancing up from the stack of papers on her desk. "I've never had this many clients. They love you. You bring something new and fresh to Karma Fitness."
"Thanks," Tawney said. "I'm glad."
"Any chance you can take over the afternoon classes?" Liv asked her.
"Sure, you okay?"
Liv had seemed a little down today, her energy level much lower than usual.
Liv opened her desk drawer and popped a couple of antacids.
"Can't seem to shake this upset stomach. Not sure if it's heartburn, a virus, or just old age." She gave Tawney a weak smile.
"Why don't you go home and rest?" Tawney said. "I can take care of things here. I'm happy to do it."
Liv waved her hand. "I'm fine. If you can take over my classes, that will be enough. I can certainly sit here and do paperwork."
"If you're sure?" Tawney said.
"I am." Liv leaned back in the chair. "Your aura is glowing. Working here is good for you."
Tawney smiled. "I love working here."
"It shows."
People began coming in for Liv's dancercise class. Tawney taught two classes in a row, one advanced and one beginner. She'd been around long enough now to learn all the routines. At three p.m. she got a break.
"I think I'll run over to The Junebug and pick up a salad. Do you want anything?" she asked Liv.
Liv took her glasses off and set them on the desk. "I honestly don't think I can eat."
"You need to go home."
Liv's eyes looked worried, tired. "Maybe you're right." She used her hands to brace herself and stood.
Tawney didn't like the ashen color of her skin. "I'm driving you to the doctor."
"No, someone needs to be here to teach the remaining classes."
"Liv, you are more important than Karma Fitness," Tawney told her. "I'm going to run home and get my car."
"No." Liv grabbed at her chest. "Something's wrong." She sat. "I think I'm having a heart attack."
* * *
Rick was about to pay his lunch tab at Finnegan's when he heard the sirens. From his place at the counter, he saw the aid car pull up in front of Karma Fitness. He knew it was Tawney's day to work, yet she wasn't his first thought. A lot of senior citizens took Liv's classes. Most likely one of them had fallen ill. Still…
Rick tossed a ten on the counter. "Here you go," he said to Meg, the waitress. "I'm going to head over there and see what's going on."
He crossed the street then bounded up the stairs into the dance studio. Tawney spotted him, meeting him halfway.
"Liv?" he asked. Liv sat her desk, two EMTs working on her. "What happened?"
"She thought it was her heart," Tawney said. "She hasn’t been feeling well for a few days."
"How can I help?" he asked.
"I don't know if there's anything either one of us can do right now." Tawney's brow creased. "I just hope she's okay."
When Liv was stable, they loaded her into a waiting aid car.
"Take care of the place," she said to Tawney on her way out. "I'm counting on you."
"I will," Tawney promised.
When she was gone, Tawney turned to Rick. "Wow, I'm shaking." She held out her hands.
Rick took her hands in his. "Adrenaline."
"I guess."
"She'll be okay. You did the right thing calling for help."
Tawney nodded.
He still held her hands and she didn’t pull away. He noticed that she wore the bracelet he'd given her and that pleased him.
"What happened?" a woman asked from the doorway. "I saw an ambulance pull away."
Tawney went to the woman. "Liv wasn't feeling well."
"I'm sorry." The woman's hand went to her heart. "Is she okay?"
"I hope so," Tawney replied.
More people were coming in now for the next class.
Rick hung back, watching as Tawney explained about Liv.
He kept thinking about the police report he'd asked for. It was sure to be sitting in his email inbox. He itched to get his hands on it, but he didn't want to leave until he made sure that Tawney was fine.
She broke away from the knot of middle-aged women. "I'm good. You don't have to stay."
"If you need me for anything, I'll be at home for a while, then I'll be at The Junebug."
"Okay, thanks."
He headed out, but not before he heard Tawney say, "Okay, ladies, class is about to start. Liv wants us to carry on, in fact, she insisted on it."
Rick made the short walk home. Once his computer was powered up he got into his email. The report sat in his inbox. He opened it and printed out the document.
Taking the still warm paper from his printer, he began to read about that night. The facts were all there. Angie, killed by a bullet to her heart. There was an account in his own words about the beating he'd taken. He'd described the shot that had killed Tony Malone. He read on, noting Angie's phone records and the confirmation that she'd called him. The report also stated that her phone had never been found.
His statement said nothing about the second voice he now felt certain he'd heard. He turned the page, looking for Phil's statement. It wasn't there.
His cell phone buzzed and Phil's name flashed across the screen.
"Phil."
"Hey, man," Phil said, his tone happy, as if he'd already had a beer or two. "How's it going?"
"Where have you been?" Rick asked. "I've been trying to get a hold of you."
"On vacation," Phil said. "Kelly wouldn't let up until I took some time off."
"Good for her," Rick said, meaning it. "You work too much."
"Don't we all? What can I do for you, buddy?"
"I've been thinking about the night Angie was killed."
"Man, you've got to let that go. It wasn't your fault."
"Maybe," Rick said, "but something went south. I asked for a copy of the police report. I've been looking at witness statements, but I don’t see yours."
"I gave one," Phil said, sounding puzzled. "It must be there."
"I know I sent you the text with my location. I'm lucky you got there so fast," Rick said. "But that's not what's bothering me. I'm wondering who sold Angie out. I'm almost positive there was someone else in the warehouse that day. I want to find that person, and I want you to help me."
"Of course, buddy," Phil said. "Whatever it takes."
"Good," Rick said.
"Look, I need to go. Kelly just came in with Grace."
"Wait," Rick said. "I was hoping we could talk about what went down that day. My memories are fuzzy. I'm trying to piece it all together. I need your help."
"Sure," Phil said, "absolutely, only l
ater, okay? It's family time right now. You understand, right?"
"Right," Rick said, tamping down his frustration.
"I'll call you as soon as we are back in town," Phil said. "I promise, but I also promised Kelly no business on this trip."
"Of course," Rick said.
"Later."
The line went dead.
Was it his imagination, or had Phil seemed nervous? Rick fired off an email to his former coworker Rose and asked her to check for Phil's statement.
He had to get to work at The Junebug.
For now he'd just have to wait.
* * *
Tawney walked into The Junebug starving and tired.
She'd finished her last class at 8 p.m. Without Liv there to cover for her, she'd pretty much survived on bottled water and a granola bar she'd had in her bag.
Her stomach rumbled as she took a seat at the counter.
"Hey," Rick said.
"Hi," she returned, glad to see him. "I'm starving. Can I get a chicken burger with a side salad, please?"
"Sure thing."
Rick turned away to put in her order.
"Hey, Tawney," Mel said from his usual perch at the bar.
"Mel." She didn't see Harry. "No Harry tonight?"
"Not so far."
Rick returned with her salad and she dug in.
"Yum, I'm so hungry." She'd earned every calorie in this meal and then some. Her bone spurs were aching like nobody's business. She wanted to go home, soak her feet, then put them up.
Rick set an ice water in front of her. He knew her drink of choice.
"Any update on Liv?" he asked.
"It wasn't her heart. They aren't sure what's happening. The flu maybe? They're running tests. I'm just glad she went to the hospital. If she'd waited, who knows?" Tawney wiped her hands on her napkin. "They are letting her go home. Her sister is going over to stay with her."
"She's lucky you were there."
"I've grown really fond of her," Tawney said. "She's a great lady. Quirky. But I like that."
She finished her meal and paid her tab.
"I can get Roy to watch the front and walk you home," Rick said as she put her jacket on.
"No need. It's still early. It's fine." She patted her bag. "You know I can take care of myself now."
Rick's brow furrowed. "Call if you need anything."
I will." Tawney left The Junebug. She took a deep breath of fresh air. The day wasn't as cold, but it was cold enough she longed for a hot bath.
At her door, she inserted the key. She opened the door, then was shoved from behind.
She stumbled into the cottage, tripping and falling to her knees.
Before she could get up or go for her gun, strong hands found her arms and she was hauled to her feet. Her assailant was at her back, his arms around her.
Without thinking, she did a step-back to his knee, taking him down. Unfortunately, she went with him. A numbing pain shot up her arm.
She scrambled to get up, but he caught her ankle.
Tawney screamed. He dragged her to him. She fought, using her hands to hit him, then grabbed his hat. Fur filled her hands as she yanked the hat from his head.
He pinned her underneath him. Whisky soaked breath made her gag and worse, he stunk like he hadn't showered in forever. She knew that stench. Knew the fur hat.
Harry.
Tawney jerked, bucked. She raised her leg, ramming her knee into his groin.
He yowled in pain and rolled off of her.
Tawney shot to her feet and was out the door before he had time to do anything. She ran to The Junebug, her feet slipping on the icy street.
"Help," she screamed as she came through the door.
Rick dropped the beer he held. "What the hell happened?" He took her arm, helping her into a chair.
"A man," she said, her breath hard in her chest. "He pushed me into to the cottage. He tried to—" she broke off, struggling for a breath.
"Are you hurt?" Rick asked. "Did he?"
"No." She shook her head.
"Roy, call 911," Rick shouted. To Tawney he said, "Stay here."
"Wait," she said, grabbing his arm. "I think it was Harry."
"Son of a bitch." Rick went in back, no doubt to get his gun, then booked out the door.
She didn't want him to go after the guy, even if that guy was Harry. She couldn't bear it if anything happened to Rick.
"Oh, honey," said Debbie, the waitress on duty. "What can I do?"
Before Tawney could reply, Roy said, "I called the police."
Tawney realized she was shaking for the second time that day, only this time the adrenaline was laced with fear and revulsion. "I don't know."
She glanced around. Mel sat at the bar, his beady eyes round with shock. No one said a word. Everyone stared. There was only one other woman in the bar, and she sat with a guy. Pity filled the woman's eyes.
"Should I call Brandi?" Debbie asked.
"No," Tawney said. "I don’t want her to know." But who was she kidding? Brandi would probably hear about the attack as she served someone pancakes at Finnegan's tomorrow morning. "My arm really hurts. Maybe some ice?"
"Coming up," Roy said.
He brought her an ice bag and a blanket. He put the blanket on her legs, then had her show him where her arm hurt. She pointed to a place near her left wrist and he set the bag on her arm.
Debbie brought a chair over and sat next to Tawney. "It's going to be okay." She patted Tawney's good arm.
The police came, followed by the EMTs. They checked out her wrist, and while they didn't think it was broken, they wanted her to go to the hospital for an X-ray. Tawney refused to do anything until Rick returned. Not only was she worried about Rick, she had to know if they had caught Harry. She knew other officers were with Rick at her place.
By the time Rick returned, the shock had started to wear off. Fear was slowly being replaced by a searing anger. Anger at herself and anger at the man who'd attacked her.
"Was he there?" she asked Rick.
"No," Rick said. "But we got his hat, and we found a couple of empty pints of Southern Comfort in your garbage can. Judging from the number of cigarette butts near the can he was there for a while waiting for you to come home."
Tawney didn't even know how to respond to that. Another stalker, only this one wasn't clever, high powered, or rich.
"How's she doing?" Rick asked the EMTs.
He hadn't even looked at her. It was as if he couldn't bear to. Tawney willed him to look her way. What was wrong with him?
"She needs to go to the hospital," one of the EMTs said. "Her wrist needs an X-ray."
"Then take her," Rick said, the words flat. "Why is she still here?"
"Will you drive me?" she said to Rick, a challenge in her words.
He turned to her then, and try as she might she couldn't read his expression. Was he really going to send her away alone? She didn't care what he'd been through, she needed him. This felt a little too much like being left at the altar a second time.
"I should stay here, try and find Harry," he said, but she knew that wasn't the real reason. Was he remembering Angie and how he couldn't save her? Maybe her attack had hit a little too close to home for him. Maybe she needed to cut him some slack.
"Let's go," she said to the EMT closest to her. "I'm ready."
"Tawney," Rick said, the word sounding like a plea.
"I'm fine," she told him. "I just need an X-ray; it could have been worse."
"Don't you think I know that?"
He was afraid—for her. She didn't want to leave him there to wallow in his own fears and doubts. "Please drive me, Rick," she said. "I need you."
He pressed his lips together, then nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?" the EMT repeated.
"I'll drive her," Rick said.
The EMTs began to pack up.
Right now they needed each other, whether Rick understood that or not. None of this was her fault, nor was it Rick's.
She'd never encouraged Harry or any other man in The Junebug. She did know one thing; she was done working in a bar. She couldn’t put herself in the path of men any longer.
"Are you sure you're good enough to sit in the Jeep?" Rick asked.
"I’m fine." She stood on legs that felt like spaghetti, her wrist throbbed, but Tawney walked out of the bar and got into the Jeep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rick sat in the hospital waiting room.
They'd taken Tawney away for an X-ray close to an hour ago. He couldn't forget the way she'd looked when she'd burst into The Junebug: the terror in her eyes, her messed up hair, her jacket askew. He'd been unable to protect her. He could have actually lost her. The thought took him right back to the first day after Angie's death. He'd felt helpless then, sick with regret, and he felt helpless now. But along with those emotions came a white hot anger.
Right now he didn't trust himself around Harry. No, he didn't trust himself at all, and that was a new feeling for Rick, a feeling he hadn't had with regard to Angie's death. And he knew why. He hadn't been in love Angie.
But Tawney—he felt so much for her and he wanted to explore every one of those feelings.
Rick gritted his teeth against the rage in his gut. The hatred. He knew he needed to extinguish those emotions. He'd been a cop and the first one to preach about how unwise and illegal vigilante justice was, but right now, he totally understood why victims' families sometimes took matters into their own hands.
Harry had better hope the Seward Police found him before Rick did. What the heck had Harry been thinking? Did the guy have a history of sexual assault? Rick intended to find out.
"Mr. Tabor?" a nurse asked.
He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't heard her approach. "Yes."
"If you'll follow me, Ms. O'Hara is ready to be discharged."
"Thank you." He followed the nurse through double doors and down the hall to where Tawney waited in a wheelchair, her left wrist in brace. An angry bruise marred her left cheek. His anger swelled. Vigilante justice was looking good.
