Treating sick children on a daily basis, Russ occasionally had to deal with diseases that defied modern medicine’s power to heal. And accidents could claim a life without warning, in the most ordinary setting. But those occurrences remained mercifully rare.
Rachel was different. Her job was different. It required her to face situations most people avoided. To march into dark corners and dimly lit alleys, to pursue armed felons, to stop cars that might contain fleeing killers. Every time she reported for work, she put herself into the line of fire.
He admired the hell out of her, but he didn’t see how he could bear to wait around for a woman who played Russian roulette whenever she stepped out the door. Thinking about the chances she took made him angry, although he wasn’t sure at whom.
Finally an officer came by, asking neighbors what they’d witnessed. “Was anyone hurt?” Russ demanded.
“No, sir, it doesn’t appear that way,” came the reply.
“Is Officer Byers all right?”
“Oh, you know Rache?” The young man’s formal manner eased. “Hey, you’re the doc who hauled her out of the drink last weekend. Heard you two got engaged.” His gaze swept the bathrobe, which Russ had forgotten he was wearing. “Looks like someone interrupted a pleasant evening.”
Russ gritted his teeth. While worry was tearing him apart, this clown had his head stuck in the bedroom. “I gather she’s all right.”
The man smirked. “I’ll tell her to hurry home to the love nest, Doc.” Before Russ could march inside with what little dignity remained, the cop added, “You see or hear anything?”
Stiffly, he said, “A gunshot. I’m the one who reported it.”
“Half the neighborhood called us,” the officer responded cheerfully. “Thanks, Doc.” He strolled to a knot of people gathered near the corner and began questioning them.
Face aflame, Russ retreated. He supposed these guys joked to avoid dwelling on the danger they faced every day. Plus, judging by that crazy bicycle contest at the party, cops must be risk-takers at heart. Nevertheless, if Rachel had any sense, she’d rethink her course once she weighed the impact on people who cared about her. Namely, him.
A second glass of Chardonnay and the news of her safety restored a measure of calm. Nearly an hour later, when Rachel sauntered into the kitchen as casually as if returning from the mall, he felt torn between a longing to hug this maddening women and an impulse to scold.
“What a zoo.” At the counter, she poured herself a glass of wine. “Can you believe Chief Lyons showed up in the flesh? Guess he’s got a standing order to be notified about anything involving Borrego.”
“Department politics in the middle of a shooting?” That surprised him.
“Hey, everything’s political these days. Too bad they didn’t catch the perp. He must have stashed a car on Arches Avenue.” She regaled Russ with the tale of the prowler, who’d apparently targeted a little girl’s room.
“That’s twice he’s shown up in the same location,” Russ noted. “Should we find another day care home for Lauren until this blows over?”
“Seems kind of hasty.” Rachel fixed a peanut butter sandwich. Russ declined her offer to make him one. “Lauren’s just settling in, and besides, if the guy has any sense, he’ll find somewhere else to snoop. I wish I could have stopped him and neutralized the threat.” She washed down a large bite with a swallow of Chardonnay.
He attempted to visualize the scene. “Was he armed?”
“Guess I left that out. Yeah, he was packing.” Rachel wrinkled her nose at the flavors. “Wine and p.b.—not a great match.”
Russ didn’t understand how she could treat this situation so casually. “The suspect had a gun. And you’re saying you should have put yourself in harm’s way?”
“Depending on circumstances.” A quizzical expression. “That’s what cops do.”
Russ moved on to the real issue. “When I heard the gunshot, I thought you’d been killed.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me you’d be worried. Guess I’m used to being unattached.” She reached to cover his hand. The contact felt so good Russ wanted to whisk her into the other room, remove these annoying clothes and hold her close until the chill of fear faded completely.
Except that he’d only be fooling himself. “If this were a real engagement, if we were planning a future, I’d expect you to show more caution.”
Confusion clouded her green eyes. “Got to use my best judgment, Russ. In the field, the worst thing you can do is second-guess yourself.”
He held up his palms. “You’re right. I didn’t put that well.” The thoughts that had been tumbling over each other came into focus. “What I mean is, making love changed our relationship.”
Her expression brightened. “Yeah? I kind of thought so, but I wasn’t sure you felt that way.”
He cherished the simple statement. No fancy phrases, no demands for proof of his love, simply an honest acknowledgment that warmed him deep inside. He nearly stopped talking to enjoy the rosy hue of her cheeks and the inviting part of her lips.
But his adrenaline hadn’t quit pumping from fear and anger. He couldn’t live like this, and he couldn’t ask his daughter to do so, either. “I care a great deal about you, Rachel. Maybe even…well, let’s not go into that.”
“Why not?” she asked hopefully.
He plowed on grimly. “Before tonight, I didn’t mind your occupation, or maybe I hadn’t thought about it enough. This is different. This was…wrenching.”
She blinked. “I shoulda called. I’ll be more careful in future.”
“That’s what we need to discuss—the future.” He pressed on. “Tonight I had to face the possibility of losing you. That’s what every officer’s family endures, I guess, but it isn’t normal to worry every time your fiancée or—” he wasn’t quite ready to say wife “—partner walks out the door, that she may have to stop a bullet. That if a maniac blows into town, she’s the first line of defense.”
After finishing the sandwich, Rachel lifted the wine-glass, made a face at the contents and set it down again. A bit thickly she said, “Goes with the territory.”
“There have to be other positions. Public information officer. Some kind of desk job. Even detective work, but not patrol.”
She grimaced. “How about meter maid?”
Russ could see this conversation wasn’t going well. “That’s not what I meant.”
“They might be hiring crosswalk guards down at the school district.” Grumpily she went to the fridge. Milk sloshed into a glass and onto the counter. “How about a night watchman at the pickle factory?” She slammed the bottle into the fridge and shoved the door shut.
He yearned to argue. To fight for this woman who’d touched his heart, to make her understand how much he needed her. She’d awakened a side of him tonight that he’d never even suspected.
But between them lay a vast difference in personality and attitude. He couldn’t reshape her, and he was unfair to try.
“You’re right.” He waited until she settled at the table. “I have no business demanding that you give up your life’s work.”
“It’s who I am,” Rachel confirmed. “I’d hate flying a desk. Derek Reed’s the new P.I.O., and he’s miserable. Man, I pity the poor schlub. Well, okay, he’s got women beating down his door, so he’s not that pathetic, but I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes.”
The next part hurt before he uttered it. Still, Russ went on despite the regret arrowing through him. “I can’t claim that our sleeping together was a mistake. It meant a lot to me, and I think to you, too. But we can’t do it again. We have to keep our distance. As for this engagement, when we’ve accomplished our goal, that has to end. Of course I hope we’ll remain friends.”
She sat stunned, a smear of peanut butter decorating the corner of her mouth and a milk mustache arching above. The sweetest, most down-to-earth woman he’d ever met, and a powerhouse in the bedroom. The longer he sat there, the more he
wanted to withdraw his words.
But Russ had seen too many police funerals on television, too many grief-stricken widows walking beside caskets, too many motorcades of officers. Better to stop now. Better to set her free before he fell completely in love.
THE MAN HAD TO BE KIDDING, although Rachel knew he wasn’t. People didn’t abandon something so special because they got scared. Maybe they argued or indulged in a case of the sulks, but they worked it out of their systems.
Why turn himself inside out about her safety if he didn’t care deeply? He’d practically declared he loved her. He ought to be grateful they’d found each other. She certainly was.
Finally Rachel dared to ask, disbelievingly, “No more sex?”
Russ looked glum but determined. “That’s right.”
“You can’t be serious!”
His jaw twitched. “Let’s not quarrel.”
“Why not?” Every instinct demanded that she shake sense into this fellow. A short while ago in the bedroom, he’d launched her into the stratosphere. They couldn’t stop now.
“As I said, I’d rather not fight.” He averted his eyes.
Rachel certainly didn’t want to provoke him into kicking her out. That gunshot had shaken him. She decided to give him some space and hope he’d recover his good judgment. “Then I should sleep in my own bed?”
“That’s the idea.” He carried his glass to the counter and, after rinsing it, disappeared into the interior of the house.
Rachel felt as if he’d just banished her from paradise. She hoped he changed his mind in a hurry, because she missed him already.
Chapter Fourteen
In the morning Russ remained pleasant but distant. Since Rachel had two more days off, thanks to the department’s schedule, she swung by the condo complex. The workmen terracing the slope and compacting the soil were progressing much too quickly for her taste.
Once the condos reopened, Russ might send her back. Except for the matter of meeting with Janine, of course. Braced by that thought, she drove to the station to work out in the exercise room.
Hale poked his head in while she was on the treadmill. “Can’t stay away on your day off?”
“Cheaper than joining a club.” Stepping off, she wiped sweat from her forehead. “How about spotting me on weights?”
“Sorry. I gotta reinterview a witness about Baldy.” The drugstore robber remained at large. “I’d keep a low profile, if I were you.”
“Yeah?” What had she done? Oh, right, she’d initially failed to report the previous night’s incident with the prowler. Although Rachel doubted calling it in would have made any difference in the events, still, she’d gotten mixed up with Borrego, whose return to town must irritate his successor. “You mean because of Vince?”
“The newspaper lady spent half an hour interviewing him,” Hale explained. “She’ll rehash that old scandal for all it’s worth.”
Last week, as expected, Tracy had portrayed Russ as a knight in shining armor and had run a photo of him atop the story about Nina’s rescue. If she learned of his engagement to a cop involved in this latest mess…well, the Villazon Voice would hit the stands Thursday, which meant three uneasy days of waiting.
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Rachel went to shower, and resolved to exercise elsewhere for a while.
In midafternoon, she dropped by the Villa Corazon homework center. Although her rotating schedule prevented her from arranging regular sessions, she provided spot tutoring in math.
She found Yolanda Rios, the retired teacher who’d cofounded Villa Corazon, helping a home-schooled youngster navigate an educational site on the Internet. As soon as she was free, Yolanda went to Rachel to congratulate her on her engagement, which she’d heard about from Marta.
“Kind of sudden, wasn’t it?” The widow’s eyebrows arched above her glasses. Coupled with the two white streaks in her black mane, the quizzical expression gave her an almost humorous air.
Rachel didn’t answer, because she had a question of her own. “Your husband was a cop. Did that worry you?”
“Of course.” The woman began distributing pencils, pens and paper on empty tables around the room, preparing for an influx of after-school students. “Although statistically, being a firefighter is more dangerous.”
“Ever ask him to change careers?”
“No. He loved his work.” Yolanda fixed her full attention on Rachel. “Does your fiancé have a problem with it?”
“A big one.”
“Does he think it’s unfeminine?” That sounded like a challenge. Yolanda didn’t hold with stereotyping.
“He thinks I could get killed.” Rachel outlined last night’s events, including the gunshot.
“He’ll get over it.” Yolanda broke off as three young girls piled through the door. “Oh, would you help Sarah with her math? She got a D on a test last week.”
“You bet.”
By the end of the lesson, Connie had arrived, leaving her gift shop in an employee’s hands to work with a five-year-old named Skip. In addition to needing help with the alphabet, he seemed hungry for contact, clinging to Connie’s arm and seeking reassurance as he sounded out letters.
“His foster mother lets him spend far too much time alone. He roams all over the neighborhood by himself,” her friend confided later while Skip was arranging alphabet blocks. For example, she said, the boy had walked several blocks from his home to the center without supervision. “I’d love to adopt him, but his foster mom has priority. I guess her child-rearing techniques pass muster, but if you ask me, he’s just plain lonely.”
Rachel decided not to bring up her problem with Russ. She had to collect Lauren for a haircut, which the little girl had requested.
On the way out, she scanned the roster of volunteers on the bulletin board and was relieved that Vince’s name didn’t appear. With luck, he’d forgotten about volunteering, thus sparing Elise an awkward situation.
At the day care, Keri seemed on edge after last night’s disturbance, but expressed the hope that her father had scared off the prowler permanently. Since Rachel hadn’t thought to make a hair appointment, she recommended a salon that took walk-ins.
The only thing that mattered to Lauren, Rachel discovered when their turn arrived, was that she have a cut like Rachel’s—chin-length with bangs. It meant losing her lovely, long brown curls. “I want it!” she demanded from the large chair.
“We’d better ask your dad’s permission first,” Rachel said.
“No!” The little girl folded her arms stubbornly.
Rachel sought a diplomatic excuse to delay. “Let’s wait till we see Janine, okay? Otherwise, she might get mad at me. She’ll think this was my idea.”
The stylist watched them with a strained smile, which reminded Rachel that others were waiting. She wished she’d thought to question Lauren earlier.
“No!” The girl waved a hand imperiously at the stylist and employed a phrase she’d probably heard on TV. “Make me look like Rachel.”
“The kid knows her own mind,” the stylist pointed out. “And it would be practical.”
Rachel yielded. Guys didn’t usually notice hairstyles. Anyway, in future, if he didn’t change his mind about his relationship with her, Russ’d be the one escorting his daughter to the salon.
And everywhere else, she reflected unhappily as the scissors snipped off the long locks. How sad, when the three of them had started to form a family.
Her eyes misted as she remembered the feel of Russ against her. Inside her. She wished he were here right now, gazing at her with a glow on his face. Rachel wondered if she’d ever see that look again.
At last brown locks lay scattered across the salon’s linoleum floor. Freed of the weight, the curls bounced charmingly, unlike Rachel’s straight bob. To her relief, the new do created a gamine effect that was uniquely Lauren’s.
The stylist nodded approvingly. The little girl beamed.
They arrived home after Russ, who’d set out cans of
soup for them to choose. Rachel braced for his reaction, but he went on tossing the salad.
“Dad!” Lauren piped up. “My hair!”
“You look beautiful, sweetie. Thanks for getting her a trim,” he told Rachel distractedly.
End of story.
After Russ put the little girl to bed, he joined Rachel in the living room. She left the TV off, hoping he might discuss their estrangement, but instead he said, “I heard from Janine today.”
The last step before he gives me the boot. “Did you schedule her visit?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He took a chair, leaving Rachel alone on the couch. “Her beloved Byron wants her to settle what he terms ‘this business with Lauren,’ so she called from New York. I gather he’s afraid I’ll start insisting on child support or some such nonsense. In any case, she’d like to see us after she gets home.”
Rachel tried to be pleased for Russ’s sake that the process might end quickly. “When’s she coming? I’ll buy houseplants to frill the place up.”
“Don’t bother. Driving to Villazon doesn’t fit into her schedule, so she asked if we could drive to L.A. this coming weekend.”
Rachel stared at her hands. This weekend. So soon. “I have to work.”
“I remembered that.” He’d arranged the meeting for Sunday night, he told her. “Lord Byron—sorry for being sarcastic—Janine’s future husband prefers not to run into us at his place, so she’ll see us at the grandparents’ house.”
Following an estate sale to be held by a specialty firm on Friday and Saturday, Janine planned to inspect the premises Sunday. She had to make sure it was ready for the painters arriving the following day.
“Won’t that upset Lauren, seeing the house empty and forlorn?” Surely the child should be spared that jolt.
Russ stretched wearily. “Perhaps it’ll help her accept that this move is permanent.” His daughter still occasionally spoke of returning to her grandparents’ house.
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