“Shepherd?”
“Yeah?”
“Duty or not. I need some physical contact.” She was about to lose it. Knowing someone wanted her dead sent a sweeping wave of nausea over her.
Shep pulled her to an upright position and guided her into his arms. “Caley, we’re going to finish this. I promise.” He stroked her hair, tightened his hold on her. “I won’t leave you until I know you’re safe and whoever is behind this is brought down. You can count on me.”
That was her problem. She was counting on him too much. When he finished the job, he’d leave.
TWELVE
The sun had risen two hours ago and Caley sat in the sand with her knees drawn up.
After they’d returned to Caley’s, she’d checked her email. They’d gotten the grant. She wanted to leap for joy, but none was to be found. The grant might get yanked. And a killer was coming for her.
But Shepherd had promised to protect her. To keep watch. Even now he was watching from her patio. But Caley couldn’t make herself venture down to the water’s edge. It was too soon after almost being drowned in it.
These monsters had turned her safe haven into a living nightmare. The one place she loved most, felt the safest, was now a place where she’d almost lost her life. A place Shep had almost lost his. Help us, God. Help us get through this alive.
It was almost eight o’clock now. She still had to go to the center and do some last-minute prep work before she arrived at the dormitory to set up for the gala by ten.
She ached for rest.
For peace.
Ached as she remembered being in Shep’s embrace. Though she’d asked for it, it had come naturally. No hint of awkwardness. No hesitation. As if he’d been hugging her his whole life. As if he wanted to continue for the rest of it. Yet he was leaving after she was safe. At least she had him for now.
“It’s going to be a beauty of a day today, isn’t it?” Miss Whittle padded over, an album in her hand, and sat beside Caley. “Shepherd cleaned the breakfast dishes and folded the blanket on the couch. I’ve never seen a blanket folded so perfectly. Other than my JC. He was a military man through and through. Like your Shepherd.”
Caley rested her head on her knees. “Miss Whittle, Shep is not mine.”
“Oh, but I think he is.”
She heaved a breath. “I can’t be with a soldier. A man who does what Shepherd does every day. I can’t. I watched my grandma and so many others go through the pain. I refuse to live in a constant state of worry. I can’t have him ripped from me. My heart wouldn’t be able to take it.”
Miss Whittle grunted.
“What’s that mean?” Caley asked, raising her head.
“Today would have been my sixtieth anniversary had JC lived. We married young. So in love. He joined the military and went to war. You want to talk about worry? I worried.”
But Miss Whittle didn’t seem anything like Gran after Gramps died. She wasn’t depressed, and Gran never spoke of anniversaries. It was too hard on her. “Miss Whittle. I’m so sorry you lost the love of your life to war.”
“Not to war, dear. Not even to the dangers of his job when he left the military. He became a Fish and Wildlife officer. Poachers. Animals. Always something to worry about. And we had some doozies of fights in our early years. I wanted him to be safer.”
That seemed fair. Justified.
“God taught me a valuable lesson. We aren’t here forever. But while we are, He wants us to live for Him however He chooses. And that’s what my JC did. He served God by serving the country and the people of this great state. He was a hero.” Miss Whittle opened the album, flipped through a few pages. Wedding. The birth of their son. Dances. Birthdays. Graduation. Vacations. Holidays.
Caley laid a hand on her swooning heart. “He loved you. That’s obvious. The way he looks at you in those pictures.”
“The way Shepherd looks at you, dear. Are you blind or avoiding it because you’re too afraid to risk telling him that you love him? Because I also see the way you look at him.”
Caley had been ignoring it. Calling it strong feelings but the truth was she did love Shepherd as hard as she’d tried not to. What was she going to do with that? “I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to be a widow too young. I don’t want...to risk the pain.”
“Well, who does?” Miss Whittle snorted. “Look out there.” She pointed to the immense ocean. “It’s in the deep waters you really learn to trust God.”
“You also have nowhere to go if the boat sinks.”
“I believe I remember a young disciple who got out in the deep and started to sink. Seems Someone was instantly there to grab his hand, to keep him from going under.”
“You’re talking about Peter and Jesus.”
“So I am. I also remember Jesus once telling Peter to launch out into the deep and let his net over. When he did, do you know what happened?” Miss Whittle asked.
“So many fish filled the net it nearly sank the boat.”
“But the boat didn’t sink. And if Peter hadn’t gone out like Jesus asked, he’d have never experienced the glory of God in an astonishing way. And neither will you.”
Caley wiped a tear. “But trusting God doesn’t mean safety. Meghan trusted Him and died.”
Miss Whittle rubbed Caley’s hand. “She also trusted Him and lived.”
True. She’d fallen for Beckett, knowing how dangerous his job was. She’d planned a wedding, but it never happened. At least she’d loved. Taken chances. Lived. Caley had crawled into a shell. A lonely shell.
“God’s perspective on a safe life isn’t the same as ours, Caley. But He’s faithful. And always with us.”
Meghan might be dead on earth but she was living in heaven. Like Shepherd said. Not an end so much as a new beginning.
Miss Whittle caressed the album’s cover. “You know, in the end, I lost JC to cancer. If the good Lord waits a hundred more years to return, there’s no way any of us are getting out of here alive. We could die in a car accident tomorrow.” Miss Whittle took Caley’s hand in a firm grasp. “Don’t let fear rob you of loving someone and being loved. ’Cause loving someone...well, honey, that’s the best kind of living. That’s like walking on water. Get out there. Trust God to hold your hand if your faith sinks.”
Miss Whittle kissed Caley’s forehead and grunted until she was finally standing. “I love you, honey. You’re the daughter I never had. Now stop being so stupid and tell that man how you feel.” She gave a solid nod and moseyed back to the house.
What if Miss Whittle was wrong and he didn’t feel the same way about her? What if he rejected her? He’d said he wasn’t the right man for her. She’d overheard him tell Wilder he wasn’t interested in her. But what if he was just scared too? What if fear was holding him back?
Could she muster the strength to commit, to trust, knowing he could lose his life on the job? Miss Whittle had lost her husband and was full of grace and even joy. Her faith had gotten her through the hard times. And she had albums of wonderful memories. Caley wanted albums of wonderful memories too. She wanted those moments where she walked on deep waters.
She wanted to take the chance. Come out of her shell. She was tired of sitting on the edge of the bank like that turtle the day she freed him. She couldn’t think about the fear of rejection. Or what words she’d use. She had a gala to plan, a killer to dodge and find, and a grant to hold on to.
* * *
Caley stood in the dormitory. The gala event was being held in the old ballroom from when the place had been a motel. She hadn’t wanted to set anything up on the beach. Not during nesting season. The room looked lovely. Lights had been strung. A string quartet had arrived and set up. The guests’ senses would be flooded with fresh flowers, waterfall fountains and a beautiful summer evening. But she needed to run next door to the center for a few things, including her dress, which she’d left hanging on the door to her office.
Leo had stayed holed up in his office. Avoiding her no doub
t. He did mention when she bumped into him in the center’s hall that Darcy hadn’t called and wouldn’t return any of his calls. They went to voice mail. She was avoiding him.
Or something sinister had happened.
To both Billy and Darcy. They would be collateral damage for Kyle Marx as much as Caley was.
Shepherd had kept his distance most of the day while she instructed the setup crew and caterers, but she’d never been out of his line of sight. Wasn’t out of his sight even now, as he stood near the door to the ballroom wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt. Must have had those packed for evenings on the cruise he’d missed because of her. She’d been pondering everything Miss Whittle had said. She had to face rejection. Face uncertainty. She had to reveal the truth to Shepherd about how she felt. But she wanted to dress for the gala first.
She met him at the doors. “I need to go next door and change. I brought my clothes but I know you won’t let me go alone. Stand outside my office door?”
“On your six.” Turmoil swam in his eyes. Maybe his distance and being quieter than normal wasn’t just about staying out of her way today.
“Is everything all right, Shepherd?”
He pursed his lips. “Yeah. Yeah. Sure.”
She stepped closer, laid a hand on his chest. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you? We’ve been through a lot these past weeks. I think we can be honest with each other, right? No holding back.”
He nodded. “Of course.” The words seemed weak.
They walked to her office and he stayed outside the door. “Go get dressed up, Little Flynn.”
“The kind of dressed up that makes you think you need to break arms?” Tell me how you feel, Shepherd! Give me a sign I’m not about to come back and make a monster mistake.
A faint smile reached his lips. “Go on,” he whispered. “I’ll be here when you come out.”
She wanted him to always be here, but a sense of dread squeezed in her chest. “You promise?”
“You have my word.” He leaned around her and opened the office door, his nearness buckling her knees.
Twenty-five minutes later, she donned her sleeveless red dress that dusted the ground. She’d scooped her hair all to one side, where it hung over her shoulder in soft waves. And she’d painted her lips red. Going for that Hollywood Golden Age look.
She opened the office door, stepped out. Shepherd pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on, his gaze sweeping over her, connecting with her eyes. He blinked quickly, said nothing.
“Well?” She spun in a slow circle, holding her arms out. Once she faced him, she smiled, but her mouth had turned dry and her hands clammy. “Not so Little Flynn, huh?” Give me some kind of sign I’m not going to make an idiot of myself, Shepherd.
He licked his lips. “No. You’re stunning, Caley. In a dress. In running shorts. In sweats. Makeup. No makeup.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
So he was attracted to her. She moved until the tips of her shoes touched his. “What does matter to you, Shepherd?” Do I?
“What do you mean?” He messed with his earlobe and cleared his throat, but he didn’t back up.
She cocked her head, held his gaze. Now or never. He had to know how she felt. Time to walk on water and hope she didn’t sink. Time to trust God if she did. Time to live. Her stomach quivered. “Shep, I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you days ago.”
“No need to say anything, Little Flynn. We’re square.” His jaw ticked.
“No.” She frowned. He had to let her speak. Was he afraid or was he keeping her from embarrassment? “I need to tell you—”
“I’m leaving,” he blurted. “In about an hour.”
His words struck her with force. Leaving? “Are you going to the police department? A lead on Billy or Darcy?” Surely he didn’t mean leaving for good. Leaving her. Panic jolted through her veins and her lungs constricted.
He glanced away, his neck flushing. “Wilder called earlier on one of his layovers. He’s taking over and I’m going on my cruise. You’ll be safe with him.” He rubbed his chest.
“I’m safe with you!” She didn’t want Wilder. She wanted Shepherd.
“You’ll be safer with him.”
Tears betrayed her and surfaced. She shook her head. “You don’t believe that. Why are you doing this? How can you just go on a cruise when someone’s trying to kill me?” Her voice rose. She didn’t care. “And don’t say because Wilder will be here! You promised to stick this out to the end, to see it through.”
Remaining stoic, he continued to rub at his chest while she searched his eyes. Hollow. Vacant. Unreadable. “Say something,” she pleaded. “You owe me an explanation.”
He inhaled sharply, his chest rising, jaw working overtime.
He might not have anything to say, but she did. She didn’t care if he didn’t want to hear it. He was going to. She wasn’t going to be ruled by what-ifs. A tear slipped down her cheek, her throat tightened. “I need you to stay. I need you, Shepherd... I...love you,” she whispered. “Please don’t go,” she begged.
Shepherd closed his eyes, let out a long, slow breath, shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s time.”
That was it. Was he not even going to address the fact that she’d bared her heart, laid it all out there? “I guess you were right when you said you weren’t the guy for me. Because a man who would leave me when I need him most...” She squared her shoulders, masking her vulnerability, the excruciating pain going on inside her. “You lied to me, Shepherd. You said I could count on you. And you’re abandoning me.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and looked away.
“Three weeks. Sounds about right,” she spat as she stormed by him. Sticking around wasn’t his thing. He’d said it all along. But she’d thought maybe...maybe she was different. That he might feel differently about her.
He didn’t bother to chase after her. To tell her she was worth more than three weeks. Worth anything at all. Miss Whittle had it all wrong. Maybe she had cataracts. Caley exited the center, rushed down the boardwalk and to the beach barefoot, her dress dragging in the sand. He wasn’t too far away; he wouldn’t abandon his post. Just her.
Her lungs constricted. She felt fevered. Achy. This must be what pneumonia felt like. Lord, I took a chance and sank. I tried to live but I feel like I’ve drowned. So help me. Hold my hand and get me through these tidal waves of pain. He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t even want to stay. I mean nothing to him. Nothing! And he means everything to me!
She doubled over and grabbed for air.
Shepherd’s arm grasped her upper arm to buoy her. She jerked away, unable to bear his touch. “I don’t need any physical contact,” she said with more force than intended. The pain was speaking for her.
He released her. “Are you hurt? Sick?”
Did a broken heart count? Did this have no bearing on his heart at all?
She turned her back on him. Couldn’t look into his eyes, see the rejection. “Give me some space. I need space.” She heaved a breath. “And when you leave,” she murmured, “don’t offer me a goodbye. Just go.”
“Caley,” Shepherd croaked. “I—”
“Caley!” Leo waved. “It’s time to start.”
She marched into the dormitory and into the ballroom, toward the podium, slipping on her shoes and wiping her face, hoping her mascara wasn’t running. She nodded at Nora and took her seat next to Leo. He stood and opened the gala with a load of statistics, and then Caley shared the good news about the grant and introduced Nora Simms, daughter of Arnold Simms. Nora hugged Caley. “I’m proud of you, Caley. I know putting this gala together was tough this year since you lost an intern. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, Nora.” But you don’t know the half of it. And once she did, all this would be washed out to sea.
Nora publicly thanked Leo and Caley for their outstanding service to the community and her late father for his lifetim
e achievements in the field of marine life. It garnered a huge applause.
Caley wanted to be anywhere but here. She glanced around for Shep. He stood at the back of the room, by the waterfall fountain. After Nora’s speech, live music played. Food and drinks flowed. And Caley was required to mingle.
Toby waved from a dessert table.
Caley waved back and he made his way over. “Great job with this.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, did you ever get those missing journals back?”
“No. Leo said he was using them for the statistics in his speech. Did you hear all those?” She forced a grin.
“Yeah. I did.”
“By any chance have you seen Billy?” Toby roomed right across the hall from him.
“No. I was just gonna ask you the same question. This whole summer has been weird to say the least.” He shook his head. “Do you think now that the statistics part of the speech is over, I could get those journals back? I haven’t logged them yet and I wanted to get a jump before the turtles start hatching and new data is collected.”
He had a point. “I’ll see what I can do.” She doubted there’d be any point in logging the journals. Not if Nora shut them down. Donors pulled out. The grant that had come through late last night was revoked. She needed air. Weaving through guests, she exited the gala and headed down toward the beach.
A hand grabbed her arm. “Hey!”
“Ease up, kiddo.”
Wilder.
Here to take over.
“Where is Shepherd? He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on you.” He surveyed the crowd that had spread into the courtyard outside the dormitory. Caley pointed about twenty feet away. Shep was on the beach alone, watching but giving her the space she’d asked for.
“You look terrible,” Caley said. “And stop calling me kiddo!”
Wilder frowned. “I’ve been on a cramped plane for seventy-two hours. What’s your excuse for being a crank? And why is my number one guy clear over there while you’re roaming around? I could have been the killer.” He yanked her along, stalking toward Shepherd. “I’m about to find out,” he grumbled. “I can tell you that.”
Deep Waters (The Security Specialists) Page 16
