by Karen Leabo
The first door opened into a bathroom. Jess shined the flashlight. Only one toothbrush. No gold razor. She even checked the medicine cabinet. Nothing she could identify as peculiar to Terry. Damn.
Her own breathing reverberated in her ears. Concentrating on gasping quietly, she left the bathroom and came to another bedroom, empty. Not even any furniture.
The last door had to be Kevin’s. It was closed. She pressed her ear up against the cheap particle board. She could hear snoring. Unfamiliar snoring. Kevin’s. Damn, damn.
There was no one else here with Kevin. If Terry had ever been here, he was gone now.
With that realization, the fear returned. What the hell was she doing here? She had to get out before someone caught her. She moved quickly and quietly back toward the kitchen. She had almost reached the basement door, which she’d left open, when a draft of cold air gusted up the stairs. The door slammed with the force of an explosion. The whole house shook.
“Oh, no!” She opened the door and ran headlong down the stairs, then banged her shin on something in the dark basement. Squelching her cry of pain, she hop-skipped to the broken window. It was higher up than she remembered. It took her several precious seconds to find a broken chair to climb up on so she could hoist herself up and halfway out.
“Who’s out there!” an angry male voice yelled from upstairs. “I have a gun, and I shoot to kill on my property!”
Oh, great. She might not have to worry about the damn murder charge. She’d be dead.
As she wiggled her way out the window, a piece of her hair caught on the latch. Panicked, impatient, she yanked it loose, though she left some behind. At least she was free.
She didn’t bother with the crowbar or the towel. Neither could be traced to her. She just ran for the fence. Adrenaline pushed her beyond her normal limits. She clambered over the fence like a pro—and landed squarely in a pair of strong male arms.
Reflexively she started to scream. A hand clamped over her mouth.
“It’s me, dammit, shut up,” Kyle hissed in her ear.
“Who’s out there?” came Kevin’s voice from the other side of the fence. “You better freeze or I’ll shoot your ass.”
Kyle issued a pithy curse. “Run. My car’s at the other end of the alley. I’m right behind you.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. She took off like a shot. She heard Kyle’s footsteps thumping reassuringly behind her. Then she heard an “oomph” that wasn’t so reassuring. She screeched to a stop and spun around.
He’d fallen.
“Kyle?”
“Keep going,” he ordered her, urgently gesturing with his hand. “I’m okay. I can talk my way out of this one, no problem.”
She hesitated. “But...”
“Go!”
Operating on sheer instinct, she did what he’d told her, running hell-bent toward the opening at the end of the alley. Tears blinded her by the time she reached his car, parked at the curb. It wasn’t locked. She jumped into the passenger seat, slammed the door and huddled there, sobbing and waiting.
Oh, God, what had she done? What if he was seriously hurt? What if Kevin shot him? Never mind that she hadn’t asked Kyle to get involved in her escapade. He’d done it, and it was her fault if anything happened to him. She would never forgive herself.
He lay in the alley, clutching his leg. Damn knee. It chose the worst times to act up. He heard Kevin’s gate creak open. Preparing for the confrontation, Kyle pulled his shield out of his pocket and held it up.
“Don’t shoot. I’m police,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position.
Kevin Gilpatrick peered around the gate. He held a shotgun, the barrel pointed up. “Police? Breaking into my house?”
Kyle motioned him closer so he didn’t have to shout. A neighbor’s dog was already barking. “I wasn’t breaking in. I was doing routine surveillance.”
“On me?”
“On you,” he confirmed. “Just routine. We’re keeping an eye on everyone associated with Terry Rodin, hoping to get a break. You’re not under suspicion—don’t worry,” he lied.
“Then who was in my house?” Kevin asked suspiciously.
“A garden-variety burglar, I’m afraid. I was watching the front of the house, and he broke in the back. But I caught him coming over the fence on his way out. I almost had him, too, but he slipped away. Then this bum knee of mine gave out.” Kyle managed to stand, though the knee was screaming.
“Can we go inside?” Kyle asked. “I’ll need to file a report. We’ll bring some evidence guys over—”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Kevin said quickly. “Nothing was taken.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we better call in the crime-scene unit—”
“No. He’s gone now. He won’t be back. It’s too much hassle to file a complaint.”
“There’s been a lot of burglaries in this area,” Kyle improvised. “Our man might have left some clues behind that could help us catch him. You know, the tiniest bit of physical evidence—”
“I said no. I’ve had it with you cops and your bungling. Why are you wasting your time watching me when the real murderer is sleeping soundly in her own bed? She’s the one you ought to be hassling.”
“Trust me, she’s being hassled. Or didn’t you see the news tonight?”
Kevin’s teeth glittered in the pale moonlight. “Oh, yeah, I saw it. That was nice work. But where do you guys get off claiming Jess has a clean record? Have you checked back in Massachusetts where she went to school?”
“Boston police say she’s clean.”
“Oh, well, no wonder. You didn’t check in the right place. Look her up in Barnstable County. It’ll open your eyes, lemme tell ya.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know the details. Maybe it’s just rumor. Anyway, you ought to check with the police in Barnstable County.” With that, Kevin sauntered away and disappeared through the gate.
Kyle limped down the alley toward his car. Barnstable County, huh? Interesting. Maybe he’d look into it. But he’d look into Kevin Gilpatrick’s background first. The man was hiding something. Fear had rolled off him in waves at the mention of an evidence team combing his house. Kyle had smelled it.
The moment he emerged from the alley in view of his car, Jess burst out the passenger door. She ran toward him and flung her arms around his neck. “You’re okay. I’m so sorry, really I am. I didn’t think Kevin would have a gun.”
Reflexively Kyle’s arms went around Jess, and for a moment he forgot all about his swelling knee and the disaster he’d just avoided. He even forgot how angry he was at Jess. All he could think about was how good she smelled, how soft her hair was, how warm her body felt against his in the numbing wind—and how relieved he was she was safe. He’d almost blown her getaway.
He stroked her hair with one hand and slid his other beneath her jacket. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “We’re both safe. He doesn’t know it was you, and I made him believe I had a legitimate reason for being there.” And now he was guilty of aiding and abetting.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said. “I know what I did was crazy. I knew I could’ve been caught. I didn’t intend to get anyone else in trouble.”
“I couldn’t come,” he explained simply.,
“How did you know where I was?” she thought to ask, a note of suspicion entering her voice. “I’m beginning to think you’re psychic, the way you always show up at opportune moments.”
“Not me. Lynn figured it out. C’mon, we have to get out of here.” Reluctantly he released her and limped to the driver’s side of the car.
She returned to the passenger seat, rubbing her upper arms. “You’re hurt,” she accused, the moment he was inside the car.
“It’s nothing. A trick knee. Couple of days, it’ll be fine. Happens all the time.” He started the car. The heater blasted to life and was blowing warm air in seconds. He realized he hadn’t been gone f
rom the car longer than five or six minutes. It had just seemed a lot longer.
They took a brief break to call Lynn on the car phone and let her know that Jess was safe. Then Kyle asked, “Where’s your car?”
“Parked about a mile away. I didn’t want to take any chances of some neighbor spotting it and tying me to the break-in, if it came to that. I wore gloves, and I used an old crowbar and a towel that couldn’t possibly be traced to me.”
“You did think this out.” He felt a sudden, odd respect for her, for her cunning, even if she had been breaking the law. Funny, until he’d met Jess, he’d considered himself a real straight arrow. Now she had him lying to his associates and his superiors, protecting murder suspects, sneaking around in dark alleys.
And he was enjoying it.
“I didn’t think you could be that devious,” he said. “Is there some criminal bent you’ve been hiding from me?”
He’d meant the question as a tease, but when she greeted it with silence, he thought once again of Barnstable County. Was it possible Gilpatrick was right? That she had some kind of record? Counties and municipalities often didn’t share their files. It was entirely possible that the Boston police would be ignorant of what went on across the county line.
“I thought of everything,” Jess said, now perfectly composed. “And then I blew it. I left a big hunk of my hair behind, caught on the window latch. I might as well have dropped a business card.”
She was right. With DNA testing, hair could be positively linked with the person it belonged to. “You probably don’t have to worry about that. Even if Kevin figures out it was you, he’s not anxious to bring the police in. He went white when I mentioned the words ‘crime-scene unit.’”
“Really?”
“He’s hiding something. What did you find in there, anyway?”
“My rug. At least, it looked like my rug in the dark. I took a picture of it...” She reached into her jacket pocket. It was empty. “Damnation! I must’ve dropped my camera when I went back over the fence,” she said, dejected.
“You really think it was your rug?”
She hesitated. “Yes. It looked like it had been purposely hidden, too. Oh, turn right here. I think. Anyway, if Terry was there earlier, he’s gone now. I was so positive....”
She sounded so forlorn that Kyle would have said anything, done anything, to make her feel better. “Hey, take it from one who knows. Hunches don’t always pay off. But I follow them, anyway. When you’re right, it can make all the difference in a case—sometimes between life or death.”
“I hope you’re right, because I still have that feeling about Kevin. He’s hiding Terry somewhere. Maybe he has another house somewhere that Terry’s using. Yeah, that’s it! I seem to remember the two of them going fishing around here, staying in some cabin.”
“Do you remember which lake?”
“No. Oh, turn left here. I think. This is looking familiar.”
“Do you know where your car is or not?”
“Well, I thought I did. Try this street. Hmm, it’s darker than I remember.”
There were a couple dozen cars parked on the street. Kyle drove slowly, peering at every one. None appeared to be Jess’s anonymous sedan.
“Another block over, then.”
With a shrug, he followed her directions. For the next fifteen minutes. She was starting to act panicky. “What if I can’t find it? I can’t get home without a car. I can’t have you bring me home at this hour. What if someone’s watching the house?”
“The police aren’t, I’m pretty sure.”
“But the press? I’m almost more afraid of them than the police.”
She had a point. It was a small risk, but something to think about nonetheless. “We could find the car more easily in the daylight.”
“Maybe if I approached the neighborhood from the same direction I did earlier—”
“And in daylight,” he added. He was too tired and too sore to keep roaming the streets in this haphazard fashion. “My house is closer than yours. We can grab a few hours’ sleep and come back here at dawn.”
He didn’t wait for her assent but turned onto the first main street he came to, got his bearings and headed home. He tried not to think about the fact that he wasn’t planning to tell Easley or Clewis about the break-in. He tried not to think about the fact that he’d just invited a murder suspect to spend what was left of the night in his house. He especially tried not to think of the woman in black sitting in the seat next to him, or what he wanted to do with her when he got her home.
Chapter 10
Sometime during the past few days, Jess had lost control of her life. She’d suspected it before, but as she allowed Kyle Branson to lead her into his house through the garage door, she knew for sure. She’d never made a conscious decision to spend the night with him, yet she hadn’t offered a single word of protest when he’d suggested they sleep here.
Nor did she want to now.
Kyle was both persecutor and savior, accuser and defender, dark and light. She was drawn to him even as she feared him. He stood for avenging justice, cruel and blind, yet he was also her hope, her ally, even her friend.
Perhaps soon to be her lover.
The idea had been planted in her head long ago, maybe even that first afternoon when he’d come to her house. But the seed was only now germinating into something vigorous and green, with thirsty roots and leaves reaching for the warmth of the sun.
Whether the same species of fantasy had taken root in Kyle’s mind was unknown to her. He’d certainly kissed her as if he’d meant it. But he was a guy, after all, and her experience had shown her that the whole male gender was a little weak when it came to resisting sex. Most men would take it if offered, even if they hadn’t been considering the possibility before.
So by placidly agreeing to sleep in his house, was she offering? Did he read it that way? And would he play true to his sex and take advantage of the offer?
Even as these thoughts chased their own tails around in her mind, she recognized that she wasn’t thinking any too clearly. The lack of sleep over the past few days, combined with the rush of adrenaline and the sudden letdown, had left her totally spent.
Her dementia was confirmed a few minutes later, when, after sitting her in a chair and making her a cup of hot chocolate to stop her from shivering, Kyle began folding out the futon in the living room. He spread a sheet over it, then a blanket, then disappeared for a minute or so and returned with two pillows bearing mismatched cases.
“It’s pretty comfortable,” he said, breaking the silence. “But if you’d rather have my bed, I can sleep out here.”
I’d rather have your bed with you in it. The thought was so vivid that she believed for a moment she’d spoken it aloud. When he continued to gaze at her, awaiting her decision, she knew she hadn’t. “Um, the futon will be fine.”
The fatigue had scrambled her brains and her hormones, not to mention her perceptions.
“Oh, the bathroom,” he said, as if he thought that was the explanation she was waiting for. “We’ll have to share, I’m afraid. The second bath is undergoing some do-it-yourself renovations—the slow kind. The master bath is this way.”
She followed him like a zombie down a dark hallway and into his bedroom. It was a typical guy room, with the bed a little rumpled, looking as if it was made in haste, and some shirts hanging over the corner of the closet door.
Yet it was inviting, somehow. Warm. Imbued with his subtle scent, his imprint.
“Jess?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was zoning out.”
He smiled. “No kidding. You must be wiped out. I don’t have an extra toothbrush....”
“I’ll survive.”
She went into the bathroom, which was clean but comfortably cluttered with male stuff—including a disposable razor, she noted with a smile. Not a designer fragrance in sight, just Crest toothpaste, V05 shampoo, and Old Spice aftershave. Maybe he’d thrown out that stuff that smelled lik
e Terry. She hoped so. She splashed her face, swished some Scope around in her mouth, used some dental floss and called it good.
She was thinking about the comfy-looking futon as she exited the bathroom, not paying attention, and she all but stumbled into Kyle’s arms when she left the bathroom—the third time that day she’d found herself in that pleasant circumstance.
Rather than fight it, she gave in. She didn’t have the energy to do otherwise. His arms went around her, keeping her from flowing right to the floor.
“Hey, you okay?”
“I don’t know anymore.” But she needed this. She knew that. Did she dare tell him?
He swung her up in his arms and carried her the few feet to his bed, laying her down so gently that she hardly felt the contact of the mattress. She lay still as he pulled off her black Reeboks with almost clinical detachment. Oh, hell, she thought in a flash of clarity, this isn’t about sex at all.
“I’m worried about you, Jess,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You fainted earlier, and you almost did it again just now. Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”
“I need rest. I haven’t been sleeping.”
“You can sleep here. I’ll unplug the phone.” He reached toward the nightstand and made good his word.
“Could you stay with me?”
His eyebrows flew up, and his chest noticeably rose and fell.
“I don’t mean anything,” she added hastily, “just that I’d feel safer with someone...with you close by.” That, at least, was true.
The expression on his face was impossible to read. Was he disgusted? Had she just proved she was the opportunistic slut the papers had painted her as? Lord help her, maybe she was. But this was different, she reasoned. Extraordinary circumstances. She wasn’t the type to fall into bed with any handsome guy she met. But would he know that?
Did it matter?
She was drifting off. The next time she became aware, she knew she was sleeping curled up next to Kyle’s bare chest. An incredible feeling of peacefulness and safety washed over her as she listened to his slow, rhythmic breathing, inhaled his scent, felt the warmth radiating from him. She slipped back to sleep, falling into a soft cloud of dreamless comfort.
