Carcen lowered his voice. “Where were you?”
Another shrug. The man scratched at the scruff on his chin and studied the ceiling. “Can’t say I recall exactly where I was then. I’ve been traveling a bit over the last few years.”
“Till yesterday.”
The perp shrugged. “We done talking about four years ago?”
“For now. Tell me about yesterday.”
“You guys got the wrong man.” He held up a finger. “Yesterday I was just minding my own business,” a second finger joined the first, “sleeping in the brush there,” a third finger popped up, “when some dude crashed by in a full-out sprint.” He ticked off a fourth item. “I realized there were cops everywhere, so I jumped up and started to run too.”
Despite the odd way he’d orated the events, Carcen rejoined with, “Running from the cops is generally only something guilty men do.”
He smirked. “Habit, I suppose.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
Carcen folded his arms and tipped back in his chair. “And that’s why you were wearing a black ski mask too? Habit?”
“You ever try to sleep outside in June in the San Juans? It’s cold out there, man! I had that on to keep warm.”
A tap sounded on the door and the legs of Carcen’s chair rapped on the tiles as he stood to open it.
Shannon shifted from one foot to the other, a smile splitting her face.
Carcen’s brows shot up and he stepped farther into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Trace worked those gloves from the upstairs bathroom. We got a print.”
Relief surged. He could tell by the look on her face it was good news. “And?”
She looked at a paper in her hands. “He’s our man. Robert Dawson, born May 16th, 1975. Tat of the four horsemen of the apocalypse between his shoulder blades, and a mole on his right cheek.”
Carcen couldn’t prevent a grin as a huge wave of relief coursed through him. “Well alright then. We’ve got our man. Thanks, Shannon.”
“Anytime, Sheriff.” She tossed a meaningful look over one shoulder as she swayed back toward her desk.
Back in the interrogation room, Carcen presented the new evidence to Harry and then left him there to confer with his client. His watch read one-fifty. He snagged his coat and a power-bar from his desk. He couldn’t wait to tell Dev the good news.
With the solid proof of the man’s finger prints in the house, combined with the phrase he’d been whispering to Devynne, it was a sure bet they had her stalker in custody.
Now he just had to tie the two cases together for the prosecution.
Chapter 7
Later that afternoon, Devynne leaned against the wall in Jackie and Lamar’s entry waiting for Carcen’s arrival. Jackie had gone out to run a few errands for the morning’s breakfast. In the living room, Marissa and Lamar giggled together over the antics of Scooby Doo. A wistful smile tugged at her lips. Why didn’t they do this more often?
She sighed. There was a very good reason why and she’d better not forget it. Too much time with them and they were bound to find out— One hand went to the back of her neck and she squeezed at the tension suddenly threatening to give her a head ache.
The front door opened. Carcen stepped in and swung his jacket onto a coat hook by the door.
“Oh good you’re here. How did it go?” She searched his face. He wore such a look of satisfaction, her pulse picked up.
He took her shoulders. “We got him, Dev. His fingerprints were in those gloves. And the lab is still sifting through the rest of the evidence. They’re bound to find some of his DNA. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“So you’re going to let me go places on my own again?”
He chuckled and winked. “Maybe.”
Tears suddenly threatened and she blinked hard. She turned from him, fingers covering her mouth. She glanced at her daughter on Lamar’s lap. The endearing sight of Marissa leaning back with her curly mop tickling the underside of her grandpa’s chin made the tears spill over and trail down Devynne’s cheeks. She closed her eyes and pulled in a tremulous breath. So many years she’d hidden away for the sake of her daughter’s safety. So many years and things that man had stolen from her. From Marissa.
Carcen stepped to her side and tucked a Kleenex into her hands. She dashed the tears from her cheeks. “Did you ask him? About Kent?”
Carcen pressed his lips together grimly. “I tried. He claimed he’s traveled a lot and couldn’t remember where he was on that day.”
Her face crumpled. “Carcen it had to have been him at Island Grocers that day.”
“We don’t know that for sure. You know whoever it was tried to hold up I.G. that day. That’s why Kent sent you and Marissa into the bathroom. It could have simply been a robbery gone bad.”
“If I hadn’t messed up the 9-1-1 call… Maybe you’d have gotten there in time.”
He took her elbow. “You accidentally hanging up and then calling right back only wasted a few seconds. It wouldn’t have made a difference. I, of all people, know what it’s like to live in the past with the constant wondering if you could have done anything differently. The truth is, we all did the best we could and we can’t go back. I’ll never stop looking for Kent’s killer, I promise you that. But,” his face turned tender, “for now you need to get home. Come on. Wait for me in the car? I’ll wrangle Marissa.”
Marissa fell asleep before they made it to the house, and Carcen carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. Devynne pulled off the little shoes sticky with some sort of sugary drippings and tucked her into bed fully clothed, knowing she’d sleep like a rock no matter what she was wearing.
Carcen checked all the doors with the keys the lock-smith had given them that morning. She stood in the kitchen eyeing the new security panel and waiting for him to leave. Dreading it, but knowing he would. With that…man…in jail, and new locks on all the doors, plus the alarm system, there was no reason for him to stay in the guest house another night.
Finally, he arrived back in the kitchen and dropped the keys into her hands with a grin. “They all work perfectly. And everything is locked up tight.”
“Thank you.”
“Listen…” he rested his hands on his hips and studied the floor near his feet. “I have a contractor installing some new windows in the living room at my place. He’s not done yet, and the place is a disaster. Would you mind if I stayed in the guest house for a few more nights?”
Relief coursed through her. “Not at all. That would be fine.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He took a step toward the door, but then stopped and looked at her. “Dev?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to ask yourself how you would have wanted Kent to live if you had been taken instead of him. I know things have been…strained. But now, with the man behind bars. What do you want for yourself?”
She blinked. “Happiness, I suppose, for Marissa and I.”
He touched her cheek, his fingers lingering for a moment before he stepped back. “Then go get it. ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.’ I have a feeling your morning has come, Dev.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Why do you think God allows such bad things to happen on this earth?”
Carcen’s lips pursed. “I’ve asked myself that a lot in my profession. The one thing I keep coming back to is free will. God wouldn’t be very loving if he forced us all to love Him and do everything He demanded. He wants us to love Him. But he gives us a choice.”
Her chin tilted up on a surge of anger. “Kent didn’t have a choice!”
Carcen’s face softened. “Yes. He did. He could have just let the perp rob I.G. that day, knowing he didn’t have his piece and knowing backup probably wouldn’t get there in time. But from what I heard that thief was pretty agitated and likely Mrs. Cronig wouldn’t be alive today if Kent hadn’t done what he did.” He rubbed one hand down his face. “We tend to think of this as
all there is.” He lifted his palms to the sides and gestured around them. “But the truth is, life here on earth is just preparation for a better life, an eternal one in the world to come. Kent had a choice. And he made it for the good of others because he’d already chosen to love God, Dev. His choice mattered. It was good. It was right. And even though it took him from us, I know he doesn’t regret it, because right now he can see…much better than we can. But we will… one day we’ll see too.”
She thought for a long minute before she turned to him. “I’m glad you can be so sure.”
He nodded. “One day you will be, too.”
She held her silence for so long that he stepped close and tilted her chin up. “Kent would want you to be happy, Dev.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’ll try, Carcen. That’s all I can promise.”
“Good.” He smiled. “That’s all I can ask.”
“Fine.”
“How about starting right now?”
She glanced at him askance.
He grinned. “Would you like some coffee, Carcen?” he asked, affecting a high pitched voice. “Sure I’d love some coffee, Devynne!” His tone changed again. “How about cookies?” He went on to answer in a deeper voice, “I’d love some cookies!”
She smiled softly. “Would you like some coffee, Carcen?”
“Coffee?” he responded, as though he hadn’t heard the word in weeks. “Sure, I guess coffee sounds good.”
“Cookies?”
“Cookies and coffee! That’s a brilliant idea, Devynne. I’m glad you thought of it.” His grin lit up the room.
“What have I gotten myself into?” she asked of the ceiling as she reached for the coffee canister.
He munched chocolate chip cookies with delight while they waited for the coffee to finish dripping.
“Tell me about the game? Marissa said you won.”
“We did. Whipped them, in fact. You should have been there. All the boys were on fire.” He dribbled an invisible basketball across the kitchen floor, swished it through an imaginary hoop in the dining room, and paraded before a pretend crowd. “Of course it helps that they have the best coach in the state.”
She laughed at his description of himself. The only thing that kept her from gagging over his pompous air was the twinkle in his eye that let her know he didn’t really think so highly of himself. He was trying to lighten the mood.
“Not since Moses has such a humble man walked the earth,” she said dryly.
“That’s right. Me and Mo’, we’re like this.” He crossed his fingers.
Despite herself Devynne chuckled.
Suddenly his face became serious. “Hey, that’s a good sound, Devynne. I don’t remember the last time I heard you laugh.”
She opened her mouth to defend herself but realized he was right and shut it again. “I’m such a basket case, right now Carcen. So much relief and satisfaction, and worry about what if he gets off, and a lot of wondering ‘why me.’ There were any number of actresses more well known and prettier than me. What made him choose to come after me?”
“None prettier, I can tell you that.”
Her heart stuttered and she glanced up, but he was intently studying a spot on the countertop as if he hadn’t meant for that to slip out.
After a long moment he cleared his throat and shrugged. “Many times stalkers know their victims in one way or another. Maybe you bought coffee from him on your way to the set each day. Or he was a janitor in your building. Or… who knows. We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
“I’m just so glad he’s finally out of my life, but I can hardly believe it’s true.”
He took her shoulders. “It’s true. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. It won’t be easy, Devynne, but you can get past this. You’re going to have to want it though.”
She sighed. “I do want it. It’s time. I need to, if not for my own sake then for Marissa’s. I just don’t know if I can. I’ve felt dead for so long. I wished I could have died with Kent that day. Even before that, after my sister, I was always on my guard. Always looking over my shoulder.” She huffed. “A lot of good it did me.”
“I want you to do me a favor.”
“What?”
“If you ever need to talk about anything, I want you to come talk to me. Together we can get through this, okay?”
Looking deep into his blue eyes, she nodded. “I’m going to try, Carcen. But it might take me a few days to adjust to the fact that I don’t have to worry about mine or Marissa’s safety anymore.”
“I’m so glad about that.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently.
A tremor raced up her arm and she tugged for her hand’s release. “Y-yes.” When he let them go, barren cold seeped into her fingers. She clenched her fist, then rubbed her fingers together as if to erase the warmth of him. Where were these strange feelings coming from?
Carcen stepped back, but his gaze held hers for a long moment before he turned and leaned over the coffee pot. He tapped the machine impatiently. “You need a new pot,” he said with exaggerated testiness, breaking the mood.
Thank goodness for that.
“This thing must be from the dark ages. It’s just about as slow as King Richard’s pet slug.”
Devynne arched a brow. “King Richard had a slug?” Humor tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Yeah. Didn’t you know?” He spoke around the cookie in his mouth. “The slug walked all the way back to England from Jerusalem. That’s why it took Richard so long to get back - the reason he almost lost his throne to his evil cousin, Prince John.” He grinned at her just before he popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth.
Devynne smiled. “You haven’t been watching cartoons with Marissa, have you?”
“Nope! That one was with Elijah,” he said, referring to his younger sister’s boy.
Devynne sighed. “He looked so cute on Sunday in his little suit. How old is he now? Three?” Removing cups from the cupboard, she poured two, setting out cream and sugar.
“Four. Almost the same age as Rissa, I think.”
“That’s right,” she stared off into the distance, “I forgot she was pregnant at Kent’s funeral.”
“How could you have forgotten? She was as big as a ship. I would have sworn she was going to have triplets!”
She chuckled. “You never told her, I hope!”
He grimaced. “Are you kidding? I value my head a little too much for that.”
A few minutes later Carcen gave a cougar-like stretch. “I need to run into the office for a few hours.”
“Alright.” Devynne saw him to the door.
He was headed down the walk when Devynne stopped him. “Carcen?”
He turned to her.
“Thanks.”
“You bet.” A serious look filled his eyes, but he tossed her a wink to let her know he understood just how she felt.
As the growl of Carcen’s truck rumbled off into the afternoon, Devynne headed down the stairs to squeeze in some sewing while Marissa napped. She was just about to sit down at the machine when the curtains caught her eye. She didn’t have a reason to keep them closed anymore. With a grin she opened them wide and stood taking in the gorgeous view that had attracted her to this house in the first place.
She sighed with pleasure, feeling free and at ease for the first time in years.
Off to her right a hawk dove toward the water and came up with a fish writhing in its claws. Further out, the white sails of a catamaran cut a sharp white triangle against the deep green of Shaw Island. A flash of light caught her attention. Followed in quick succession by another.
A chill raced up her spine, and she snatched for the curtains.
Someone on board was snapping pictures of her house!
The curtains were halfway closed before realization hit and she laughed at herself, forcing the feeling away. She didn’t have to worry about things like that anymore. She pushed the curtains back to the edges.
I
t was a tourist. Nothing more than a tourist taking pictures.
Chapter 8
Through the lens he watched her. Zooming in on her face and allowing his gaze to roam her features. Dark wisps of curls taunted him with their freedom to caress her cheeks. She leaned forward, eyes alight with sudden wonder and he glanced in the direction of her focused attention. An eagle diving toward the water. Her enjoyment emphasized the full curve of her lips as she studied the bird plunging toward its catch.
He closed his eyes for a moment and savored her beauty, locking it away inside him, a treasure to keep for all time. Soon she would be his. He released a breath. All the waiting would be worth it.
Soon.
The price he’d paid for this lens was a mere pittance because he could actually see the delight in her eyes when the bird just off his starboard bow came up with the fish in its talons, could almost hear the soft whoosh of her awe-inspired inhale. If only he were close enough to caress the pink of her parted lips.
He closed his eyes again, locking away another image and when he opened them she was looking right at him. His breath caught. For just a moment fear jolted through him until he remembered he was far enough out she couldn’t really see him. Especially not hidden as he was by the shadows of the covered dining nook at the back of the catamaran and with his face behind the camera resting on the half-wall. He snapped a shot. He didn’t have any pictures of her looking right at him. This was going to be good. He rested his finger on the button and let the camera snap a continuous reel for a few seconds.
In an instant her features morphed into fear and he realized he’d made the mistake of leaving the flash on. It wouldn’t work at this range anyhow. He swore.
She snatched for the curtains that had remained mostly closed for the past four years and his heart sank. Just when he’d hoped she would relax a little and let him see more of her. He’d paid that loafer well. And the man had gotten himself arrested as agreed. But had the idiots in the lab botched the next step in his plan? He cursed again.
The Unrelenting Tide (Islands of Intrigue: San Juans - Christian Romantic Suspense) Page 5
