Just a Whisper Away

by Lauren Nichols

  They were midway through the Blue Plate Special when she jerked her head up in disbelief and repeated the statement he’d just made. He’d been thinking about it for the better part of a half hour, weighing the pros and cons and he’d finally voiced it. Although, if he was being honest, he and the cautious little voice in his head had reservations, too.

  “Move in with you?”

  “Just until Morgan gets back. Obviously, my place is smaller than your dad’s, but you’d still have your own space. My office has a sofa bed in it, and you’d have the family bath to yourself. I use the master bath off my room in the loft.”

  She set her fork down. “Thank you, but no. This is carrying the Good Samaritan thing too far.”

  “Then check into a motel.”

  “I’m not moving into the Stay-at-Your-Own-Risk Inn.”

  “And I don’t want you there. But there are at least five or six places within a twenty mile radius, and one of them even has a pool.”

  “I have a place to stay, and it has a pool, too.”

  Jace remembered that pool. One summer night they’d planned to take a dip in it, but they’d dipped into each other instead. “This one’s indoors.”

  Abbie sighed. “Jace, I can’t move in with you.”

  “Why not? Believe me, your father won’t keel over if you spend some safe time at my house. You can only lose your virginity once.”

  She sent him a long, was-that-really-necessary? look, then answered quietly, “This has nothing to do with my father. It has to do with the two of us living under one roof. We have an intimate past, and whether I want to or not, when I’m around you, I think about it. You think about it, too.”

  Jace sent her a bored look to mask the lift in his belly. “What makes you think so?”

  “It’s my job to read people, and I do it very well.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he returned dryly, “you were right on the money with Danny Long.”

  That stopped her cold, and the composure on her face gave way to the fear he’d seen earlier. She drew a shaky breath.

  “Look,” she began, then glanced around the relatively empty diner to be sure she wasn’t overheard. “I’m not being stupid about my safety. If I thought I was in any immediate danger, I’d find another place to stay so fast, it would make your head spin. But my dad’s home is secure. I grew up there. I’m comfortable there. There’s a gate across the driveway leading down to the house, and—”

  “And anyone can park and walk around it,” Jace reminded her. He pushed his plate away, and decided to be honest with her about the sexy stuff. “As for the chemistry, yeah, I think about it. That’s only natural, isn’t it? That doesn’t mean I plan to do anything about it. I’m not interested in going down that road again.”

  If his words stung, it wasn’t apparent because she kept her voice subdued. “Good, because neither am I. I’m still passing on your offer.” Lifting her water glass, she took a sip, blotted her lips with her napkin then glanced at his pushed-aside plate. “If you’re finished, maybe we should pick up my car now.”

  That night as Abbie stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair, the darkness, isolation and sounds she’d never paid attention to before issued from every corner of the house. To her annoyance, she found herself reacting to every creak and wind gust. She checked the doors and windows, and satisfied herself that the security system was in place and working. And all the while, she kept hearing Jace’s words over the distant yipping of the coyotes on the far hill.

  And you have a state-of-the-art nutcase after you who might not give a damn if he sets off a few bells and whistles.

  Striding into the kitchen, she fixed herself a cup of hot tea, carried it up to her room, climbed into bed and stacked her pillows behind her. Then she reached for the TV’s remote and clicked through the channels. Old movies…reality shows…tired sitcoms with annoying laugh tracks…sports…the All News channel…

  Abbie halted abruptly when she saw the bright red Breaking News banner running across the bottom of the screen. A mobile team was broadcasting from outside a cute country restaurant along Interstate 40, and the blond female reporter speaking into the microphone looked somber.

  Abbie turned up the volume. A moment later, the tiny hairs on her arms rose and a sickening feeling of déjà vu washed through her.

  “The naked body of missing seventeen-year-old honor student Misty Gardener was found this afternoon, strangled and savagely beaten to death in the woods behind this Oklahoma eatery where she’d waited tables part-time. Local and state police are investigating, but as yet have no motive for the killing. Channel Eight has learned, however, that two days earlier, another woman’s body was found just outside of Las Vegas along this same Interstate. Since the MOs bear striking similarities, investigators from both states are sharing information, trying to determine if the murders are connected.”

  The brunette anchorwoman in the studio spoke tentatively. “Are the police thinking serial killer here, Josie? And have they mentioned what those similarities are?”

  “No, to both questions, Pamela, but we’ve learned that in both instances, the women’s more brutal injuries were postmortem and sexual in nature—though there’s no word yet whether either of the victims was sexually assaulted. We hope to have more for you later.”

  Abbie drew a shuddering breath and her heart pounded. It was just coincidence! Terrible as it was, young women lost their lives every day to violent encounters. That didn’t mean Danny was behind them. Still, what little information the reporter had shared was enough to take her breath. Deep in her mind, the lilting, wandering melody of yesterday’s greeting card played over Jace’s troubled voice. This jerk knows where you are.

  Did he know she was here? Did he know for sure? Or had he simply found her father’s address, and assumed she was here?

  Something banged against her window.

  Abbie jerked bolt upright and she listened for it again…listened hard. Then she heard the scratch of a pine bough against the glass and realized that the bang she’d heard was probably just the same windblown limb her father had been talking about trimming for ages.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  On the hill, the coyotes began yipping and howling in earnest again, the sound echoing eerily in the darkness.

  Abbie grabbed the phone’s handset from her nightstand and started to dial. She had to know if Danny had been seen more recently than the other night!

  She stopped after tapping in the area code. She couldn’t call Stuart every time she got frightened. There was nothing he could do for her from twenty-five-hundred miles away, and there was no point in getting a sixty-eight-year-old man upset. Besides, he would’ve called her if anything about Danny’s status had changed. That is…if he knew something had changed.

  Dialing a second L.A. number from memory, she phoned the LAPD and asked for Detective Rush or Detective Powell. Five minutes later she was thanking Powell and hanging up. He’d been kind as he’d assured her there was no reason to believe Danny had anything to do with either crime—that it was a coincidence, or even a copycat crime. The kid had been spotted going into his apartment the night the Las Vegas woman was killed.

  So why did she still have that niggling feeling that all was not well? That the crimes had something to do with her?

  Hating the way her hands shook, Abbie snared the phone book from her nightstand drawer, found Jace’s number and dialed. She drew a few calming breaths. She’d just say she called to thank him for the lunch he hadn’t let her buy, maybe talk about the Friends dinner for a few minutes. And strangely, she began to feel a little more secure just listening to the phone ring because there was a strong man on the other end of the line who still worried about her. But then, to her dismay, his answering machine clicked on and his recorded voice said to leave a message and he’d get back to her as soon as he could. She didn’t leave a message.

  Swallowing, she left her bed briefly to grab her pepper spray from h
er purse, returned and laid it on the bed beside her phone. She pulled her puffy comforter up to her neck, suddenly chilled to the bone. Then, eyes glued to the TV screen, she watched and waited for an update on the murders.

  She was bleary-eyed and her muscles ached on Sunday morning when the sun finally pushed its way through the fine cracks between the curtains and blinds. Dragging herself out of bed, Abbie crossed the pretty violet-and-white-voile room and twisted the wand on the blind to let in more light.

  Last night’s terror came screaming back when sunlight glinted off a vehicle half-hidden in a break of the trees near the locked gate.

  Racing to her father’s room, Abbie grabbed his binoculars from a closet, then returned to rattle the field glasses between the slats of the blinds. She quickly adjusted them. Then, feeling her heart slide back down where it belonged, she exhaled in relief, set the binoculars aside and dressed.

  Minutes later, she’d made the fifty-yard walk to the top of the driveway. The lean, dark-haired man sitting behind the wheel of the SUV was wearing a brown leather bomber jacket and a grim look. After briefly turning the key, her bodyguard lowered his window, then shut the car off again. Abbie caught a whiff of coffee, saw a Thermos bottle on the passenger’s seat and a sleeping bag in the back.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning to you,” she replied, her emotions still running the gamut from heartfelt gratitude to guilt. His gray gaze looked like a before ad for eye drops. “I take it you were in the neighborhood?”

  “Just out communing with nature.”

  Abbie shook her head. No wonder she hadn’t been able to reach him. He’d been here, watching over her. Why he’d done it was a mystery. “Jace, you shouldn’t have done this. It was cold last night.” The sun was up and spring was only two weeks away, but it was still barely forty degrees. “You couldn’t have been comfortable.”

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d shown some sense and stayed at my place or found somewhere else to go.” He paused. “Did you sleep well?”

  She cracked a bleak smile. “Not really.”

  “Bad dreams?”

  “No, bad television. Come inside where it’s warm and I’ll tell you about it. I’ll fix us some breakfast.”

  Sarcasm edged his voice. “No, thanks.”

  “Jace, don’t be like that. My dad’s miles away.”

  “Yeah? Where have I heard that before?”

  A flush crept into her cheeks. “Please,” she coaxed.

  “No way. But if you’d like to hop in, I’ll let you buy me breakfast at the diner.”

  She could do that. Especially since he’d treated her again yesterday. “Just give me a minute to grab my wallet and pull a brush through my hair.”

  “Take all the time you need,” he said. “Afterward, I’ll drive you back here so you can pack your bags.”

  “Jace—”

  He cut off what he assumed would be her refusal, his serious gaze boring into hers. “Abbie, I’m offering my spare room—one last time—with no expectations and no strings attached. If this jerk shows up looking for you— and you have to admit that after getting that card yesterday, it’s a possibility—he won’t think to look at my place. He might try hotels if he’s convinced that you’re in the area. But you need to know something. I’m not sleeping in my car again tonight.”

  Abbie nodded. She’d hoped that her fears would leave when the sun came up, but despite Powell’s assurance that Danny hadn’t left L.A., she still had doubts.

  He looked startled. “Was that a yes?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” In the back of her mind, she knew living with him was asking for trouble. They both had crystal-clear memories of their one night together. Wrapped in a world of their own, there’d been tenderness and shivery touches…warm deep sighs and hot sexy kisses that could’ve melted steel. The two of them were a tinderbox waiting for a spark, and every time they were together, the air crackled with electricity. It was here, even now, pulsing below their conversation.

  “Good,” he said, his tone suddenly a little subdued. It was almost as though he’d peered into her thoughts and come away with the same doubts.

  “Does this mean all’s forgiven?” she asked quietly.

  He had no trouble answering. “It means I’m offering you a place to stay during the night when you’re the most defenseless.”

  Abbie held back a sigh. So, that part of it hadn’t changed; he still believed she’d used him, but he was willing to help her. Then she remembered how he’d kept Ty close after their mother had left them. He was a caretaker. He didn’t look like one, and he had enough sexy alpha blood running through his veins to make the idea totally preposterous. But beneath his rough-cut exterior, he cared about the unfortunates of the world. And for the moment, he’d decided she was one of them.

  He locked his gaze on hers, thoughts moving crisply through his gray eyes as he returned to her earlier reply. “Go. Brush your hair, grab your wallet and do whatever else you need to do. Then let’s talk about the bad TV that—apparently—convinced you to accept my help.”

  By the time they’d entered the Market & Main Diner twenty minutes later, she’d told him everything—all about the disturbing newscast, Powell’s assurance that all was well, Danny’s call to her cell, and finally her own uneasiness. “It’s like…a rash on the back of my neck.”

  Gravely exchanging a look with her, Jace guided her to the same black-and-white vinyl booth they’d used yesterday. He knew that back-of-the-neck feeling, and he knew that sometimes you could trust it. Growing up in Jillie Rae’s trailer—even after he and Ty had moved in with the Parrishes—he’d felt the stares, sensed the pointed fingers of classmates. Jillie’d had the reputation of bedding any man with a wallet, and everybody in town knew it. He’d finally decided to grow a thicker skin and say to hell with all of them. He knew who he was, and he had his own set of values. But that realization had only come after half a dozen all-out brawls.

  The Formica table was already set with cups and napkin-wrapped silverware, and the aromas of coffee, bacon and home-fried potatoes seasoned the air.

  Forcing a smile, Abbie changed the subject as they slid into their seats. Jace was glad. He wanted her to eat something, and he couldn’t see how she could with those kinds of pictures in her head.

  “Looks like the sunrise service just got out.”

  “Yep, looks like.” All decked out in their Sunday best, the after-church crowd had the lunch counter and most of the front booths taken.

  Jace watched her. She’d already flipped her coffee cup over on the saucer and reached for the menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser. Even without makeup, with her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and little wisps around her face, she made every other woman in the place look like they’d tried hard and failed.

  He was about to ask if she was hungry when he spotted someone he knew and his own appetite took a nosedive.

  Frowning and feeling some reluctance, yet knowing he had to take the opportunity, he touched Abbie’s hand. A little spark tickled the hairs on his arm, reminding him again that living with her was going to present a whole new batch of problems. “Excuse me for a minute? I need to talk to someone. If the waitress asks for our drink orders before I get back, I’ll have coffee and orange juice.” Then, thanking her, he crossed the room to the booth where Arnie Flagg’s wife sat alone.

  “Hi, Callie,” he said respectfully. “How are you? You holding up okay?”

  Callie Flagg glanced up from her coffee and Danish, and her sober face lined. She was in her early forties with short brown hair and pretty blue eyes, but they were eyes that had lost their sparkle. “How am I? I’m worried, Jace.”

  “I’m worried, too,” he replied. “But I’m not worried about Arnie not having a job to come back to. I’m worried about losing a couple of good friends.”

  She ignored his statement, but her briefly averted gaze told him she’d heard and understood. “He’ll never work in the woods
again. His leg will never hold him.”

  “We don’t know that yet, Callie. According to—” He sighed. “According to our attorney, the surgery went well.”

  “He’s in pain,” she said angrily, as if Jace were directly responsible. “A lot of pain. And there’s no assurance that the bone graft will take, or that he won’t develop an infection that could take the leg and his life.” She stopped herself, seemed to find some calm from within, then spoke in a more even voice. “I’m sorry. I’m too emotional, and I shouldn’t be talking to you about any of this.”

  Jace’s spirits sank. If she cried, he didn’t know what he’d do. “I know, and I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have. I just came over to tell you that Ty and I will make a place for Arnie whenever he’s ready to come back. If he wants to come back.”

  “I don’t want him in the sawmill.”

  “Neither do we.” Every job in the mill was dangerous, and they didn’t want a man who wasn’t sure-footed operating any of the machinery. “There are always jobs in the drying end of the business—overseeing temperatures in the kilns, sticking, waxing… I know he doesn’t have any experience there but he’s a smart guy. He’d learn quickly.”

  She didn’t reply, but she didn’t get up and leave, either, and that gave Jace hope. “Ty and I want the best for him. Will you tell him what we’ve talked about? In the meantime, if there’s anything we can do for you and the kids while he’s laid up, give us a call.” But he knew she wouldn’t, because the lawyer who was camped on her doorstep would advise against it.

  When he got back to the table, Abbie’s tentative look told him she’d watched his discussion with Callie and was wondering. Mustering a weary smile, he sat down and decided to spill his guts. “Remember the phone call from the personal injury lawyer I got the day you were there?”

  “Your company was facing a lawsuit.”

  Settling in, thinking that there didn’t seem to be any pleasant breakfast topics for them today, Jace said wryly, “Well, the problem’s like that imaginary rash at the back of your neck. It’s not going away.”