Rachel, who’d been observing them silently, knelt next to Lauren, heedless of the dirty carpet. “This feels weird, doesn’t it, sweetie?”
“Uh-huh.” The child seemed almost afraid to move, as if the walls—or her memories—might come crashing down.
“You wish things were like they used to be.” The summation brought a brief nod.
“I miss Grandma and Grandpa.” The little girl hid her face behind the doll.
“I lost my home when I was about your age.” To Janine, Rachel explained, “I used to be a foster child.” She addressed Lauren again: “Even though I loved my new family, a piece of me belonged to my old life. But after a while, the bad feelings went away.”
“I want mine to go away!” Lauren said.
“Did I tell you about my sister Kathy?” Rachel went on.
Officer Bud waggled from side to side, indicating no.
“She has a condition called cerebral palsy. It makes her walk and talk funny.” The description interested Lauren enough for her to lower the doll. “Kathy lived with a bunch of different families until my new parents adopted her, just like they did me. We both started over, lucky for us, because we’re really happy now.”
Lauren chewed on her lip before asking, “Can I meet her?”
“You bet. She’s going to adore you.”
The promise met with approval. “Can we go see her now?”
“In a few days,” Rachel said. “You can meet our new foster brother and sister, too. They’re only a couple of years older than you, but they’re sort of your aunt and uncle. Funny, huh?”
A smile at last. “What’re their names?”
“Denzel and Alicia.” Rachel straightened and dusted off her knees.
“If they’re my aunt and uncle, don’t they have to give me presents for my birthday?” Lauren asked.
“Honey, everybody’s going to give you presents for your birthday!” was the cheerful response.
Janine watched with amusement. “I can see why she got her hair cut like yours. You’re an inspiration.” Startled, Russ realized that, despite the curlier locks, the style did mirror Rachel’s.
“She’s a great kid.” Rachel draped an arm around Lauren.
Emboldened, the child asked to explore the house. Hand in hand, the pair disappeared into the interior, leaving the two parents alone in the front room. A moment of truth, Russ suspected, tautly awaiting Janine’s next words.
“Rachel isn’t the kind of lady I expected you to choose, but she’s a good match. You needed someone down to earth,” Janine said.
“Excuse me?” Despite the approval, he found the statement unsettling.
“You’re wired the same way I am, so preoccupied with the noise inside your head that you can lose your bearings. Rachel’s exactly the right counterbalance.”
“I hadn’t thought about our personalities that way, but you’re right.” Rachel’s presence did ground him. “Then you’ll let me take permanent custody?”
Janine chuckled. “You have a talent for closing the deal. You’d have made a great salesman.”
“Used to be. I sold cutlery during med school, remember?” He regarded her questioningly. “Well?”
Janine stuck out her hand, and they shook. “I’ll have my lawyer prepare the papersASAP. That ought to thrill Byron.”
“And me,” he said.
“You’re truly happy about being a father?” she probed. “I figured guilt might figure into your change of heart.”
“I’d regretted my decision for years.” When her shoulders tightened, he added, “I’m not trying to lay a guilt trip on you. At the time, we both did the best we could. I’ve changed, though, and Lauren means more to me than anything.”
“She’s obviously bonded with your fiancée.” The sound of laughter from within the house reinforced Janine’s observation. “I presume I’ll be invited to the wedding?”
The answer nearly stuck in his throat. “Of course.” Before Janine could quiz him for details, Rachel and Lauren emerged, faces bright with merriment. Heaven knew what they’d found to joke about, but he was grateful for the interruption.
Lauren ran over and held out her arms, and Russ scooped her up. He didn’t even mind that her doll’s head whacked him in the ear. “Ready to go?”
“Yes!” His daughter had obviously seen enough of her old home.
Janine exited with them and locked the door. “I’m a little envious,” she confessed. “You three form such a darling family.”
“That’s because Lauren’s so cute,” Rachel said.
“Must be,” his ex agreed.
Russ wondered if Janine might be having second thoughts about her own forthcoming marriage, but he doubted domestic bliss would suit her nearly as well as the glamorous future Byron offered. Sure enough, she rebounded quickly. “Did I mention we’re flying to the Bahamas for our honeymoon? I’m glad Lauren will be settled.”
“As soon as the papers are ready, give me a call.”
“Absolutely.”
Russ tucked the child into her booster seat with a profound sense of relief. They’d passed the test. He and Lauren were on track.
Except for one huge glitch. He didn’t see how he could bear to lose Rachel. Janine’s comment had forced him to recognize how much he depended on her.
He wished they could stay together. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to accomplish that.
RACHEL WASN’T SURE how she survived the rest of the evening without acting like a complete fool. All week, since her conversation with her mother, she’d taken pride in her ability to stop clinging to Russ. Okay, she’d choked up a bit while informing him about the condo repairs, but their relationship had smoothed out, which confirmed her mom’s assessment.
Letting go hurt worse than a stab wound. But driving him into complete estrangement was unthinkable.
Then Janine had described them as a family. For heaven’s sake, that willowy, sophisticated woman envied them. As if a hypnotist had snapped her fingers and awakened Rachel from a trance, she’d suffered the same longings all over again. More strongly, if anything.
That night, thanks to soaring spirits, Russ exuded sexual energy. A desire to tackle the guy nearly overwhelmed her resolve.
While he was putting Lauren to bed, she retreated to the den with a book. Russ entered a few minutes later and sat beside her, fingering her hair and talking as if oblivious to the fact that he was driving her wild.
She finally focused on what he was asking. Specifically, had she ever fantasized about becoming anything other than a police officer?
Sure, she told him. She daydreamed about getting zapped by lightning and transformed into Superwoman. Flying around rescuing victims without requiring a bullet-proof vest sounded like heaven.
For some reason the answer seemed to annoy him. He turned grumpy and a short while later, left the room.
A stubborn part of Rachel longed to believe that he was seeking another career for her because police work alarmed him, and that his displeasure confirmed how much he cared. But heck, doctors and nurses got exposed to nasty illnesses, including potentially lethal ones, and she didn’t let that bother her.
What an awkward position, with the rest of the world assuming they must be lovey-dovey. On Monday, after word spread about the mudslide repairs, a couple of officers inquired whether she intended to rent out her condo, and she muttered crossly that she’d post an ad when she planned to do so. It wasn’t their fault high-quality vacancies were hard to find in Southern California. Nevertheless, Rachel wished they’d buzz off.
She’d feel better once the last of the uncertainty about Lauren ended, and with it the pretend engagement. Of course, she’d have to endure everyone’s smart-aleck remarks or, more awkwardly, their sympathy. Thank goodness Connie and Marta knew the truth.
Except, they didn’t. Not the whole truth. Not the fact that her entire body had quivered while Russ stroked her hair, and that she’d had to fight tears when she peeked in at his sleeping daughter and reali
zed how much she was going to miss them both.
Everything Rachel longed for had been dangled in front of her and was about to be snatched away. Completely unfair. Although she would always treasure the photos from that day with Lauren and Russ and his parents, what she ached for most were the unexpected moments when he opened his soul to her. The connection between them that transcended the physical. The sense of belonging with him.
All wishful thinking. She’d created her own heartbreak.
The rest of Monday dragged on. Then, in the middle of the afternoon, the radio began spitting out codes and instructions.
Officer-involved shooting. Suspect hiding on premises. Office building under evacuation. Rachel could hear sirens wailing all the way to the far side of town, where she’d been patrolling.
Baldy had struck the pharmacy on the first floor of the Mesa View Doctors building. Stopping to pick up a prescription for a sinus infection, Patrolman Bill Norton had interrupted a robbery in progress and been forced to return fire. Mercifully, the robber’s bullets failed to hit their target.
The suspect had vanished through a doorway into an interior hall and up a staircase. Guards immediately cut access to the adjacent hospital, but the perp could be anywhere in the office structure. Each floor was being systematically evacuated and searched.
Russ worked in that building. Perhaps he’d already been sent home for the day. Rachel refused to consider that he might be in jeopardy, because anxiety only detracted from her job.
Which, under the circumstances, extended past the end of her shift. Rachel had just turned west, answering a call for help with crowd control, when another report came in. An employee at the industrial park next to Amber View had spotted a trespasser, a man in his early thirties with shaggy ginger hair. The man had flashed what appeared to be a pistol and run toward nearby houses.
As the closest officer, Rachel hung a U-turn and responded. At the site, she located the witness, a fiftyish male who seemed eager to help.
He explained that the interloper had apparently been sleeping in an empty warehouse. When employees opened the docking doors to unload equipment, they’d flushed the guy. He’d left in a hurry, displaying the weapon to make sure they cleared the way. One significant detail: the subject’s neck bore a tattoo of a skull and crossbones.
That brought to mind Noel Flanders, the prison escapee whose bulletin Rachel had read. She called up his image on the mobile data terminal.
“Yeah, that’s the guy,” the employee confirmed.
She radioed in the ID. Dispatch put out a call for backup, but with an armed felon heading into a residential neighborhood, Rachel couldn’t wait. She turned onto Arches Avenue and burned rubber to the development entrance.
All senses roared to full alert. Convicted in a series of robberies, the perp had been given a lengthy sentence under California’s Three Strikes Law and probably figured he had nothing to lose by shooting a cop. Worse, the guy was loose in a zone filled, at midafternoon, with women, children and retirees.
Even if he only wanted to hide, he might take hostages. A vehicle for sure, given half a chance.
Reluctant to activate her alarm and warn Flanders of her approach, Rachel cruised past the pool. On a crisp February day, it lay empty. So was the tot lot, at this hour.
She radioed to make sure dispatch alerted school bus drivers to keep a lookout before releasing their charges into the Amber View tract. Of course, the guy might be heading north into the old avocado grove or west toward the high school and shops.
Rachel surveyed houses and yards and scanned the occupants of the few passing cars. Spotting a woman walking her dog, she stopped to warn her and inquire if she’d seen anything. The answer was no, followed by a fast trot to get indoors.
Another bend, another street. No sign of the guy.
An elderly man knelt, pulling weeds in his yard. Cruising by, Rachel paused to alert him and ask for info. Hadn’t seen anything, he said.
Well, that was a relief, she reflected as she turned onto Keri’s block. It was too soon to make assumptions, but with luck the guy had simply been eager to get away.
Everything appeared normal. As she cruised past, however, she noticed Keri’s front door ajar. That might indicate a parent had stopped by, perhaps Russ, since his office had been forced to close. But it was also possible one of the kids had opened it. Especially under the present circumstances, an unlatched door was a bad idea.
Rachel halted, notified dispatch and swung up the walkway, scanning the area for suspicious activity. She rapped on the door. “Hello?”
Abruptly the portal flew wide. There stood a red-haired man, his jaw twitching above a grim tattoo.
He held a gun aimed straight at her head.
Chapter Sixteen
Point-blank range. Not a chance of unholstering her weapon before he shot her, Rachel registered.
“Inside,” commanded Noel Flanders, making a rapid survey of the street before reading Rachel’s nametag. “Hand me your gun, Officer Byers, and don’t try to be a hero. My quarrel isn’t with you.”
A quarrel. She didn’t know what he was talking about and, right now, didn’t care. A cop who surrendered her gun ran a high risk of becoming a dead cop, yet under the circumstances, she had no doubt he’d fire if she disobeyed.
Irked at herself for getting caught in this mess and at this jerk for creating it, Rachel complied. Although she wore a second, smaller weapon in an ankle holster, she’d save that until the suspect was distracted.
She didn’t see anyone in the living room. When Flanders closed the door, however, he cleared her view of the family room on the left.
She went rigid. Russ stood with one arm around Lauren and the other around little Mary. Restrained fury heightened the angles of his face and emphasized a red mark across one cheek.
Their gazes met. She read tenderness, anguish and resolution. Pushed an inch, the guy might take action that could get him killed.
Rachel fought against fear for Russ and the girls and dismay at seeing them in this agonizing situation. She had to stay focused.
Discreetly she lifted one hand in a subtle calm-down gesture. Russ had to trust her to handle the situation and, if necessary, take the fall. She’d been trained to evaluate and react to situations like this. And she’d rather die than let anyone harm the man she loved.
Then she averted her eyes. She didn’t want their captor to realize she had a special relationship with anyone present.
The rest of the room lay empty. Noting a cell phone on a table, Rachel surmised Keri had grabbed the other four children and hidden, relatively safe but with no means of summoning help. At least, she hoped that was the explanation. Certainly if Keri had escaped the house, she’d have notified the authorities by now.
Since the stairs lay in front and fully exposed, it seemed unlikely Keri had reached the second floor. The living and dining rooms were open to view, which left the kitchen at the rear of the house and an adjacent utility room.
Best guess: they were huddled in the utility room, awaiting an opportunity to flee through a connecting door to the garage but aware that the sound of a door opening and closing would draw the hostage-taker’s immediate attention. Keri and her four little charges needed someone to sidetrack Flanders.
But before Rachel put her life or anyone else’s on the line, she had to try reasoning. That wasn’t going to be easy, since criminals didn’t operate rationally, but their thoughts usually maintained an internal logic.
“You said you have a quarrel with someone,” she noted as the man gestured her to stand beside Russ. “Mind enlightening me about that?” She took a few steps in a semblance of obeying, but left maneuvering space.
“You know who I am?” he demanded. Receiving a nod, he continued, “Eight years ago, Vince Borrego investigated my case and railroaded me. I shoulda served a year or two, tops.”
If he’d been the prowler, which seemed likely, that explained why he’d kept snooping around the same
premises. Suspects often held a grudge against the cop who sent them to prison. That was a typical attitude among lowlifes; rather than take the blame for their own wrongful conduct, they sought vengeance against the person who’d protected their victims.
Rachel didn’t intend to rile her captor by defending the old chief. Besides, she had no idea what had happened back then. “You want revenge?”
“Justice.” The man’s tattoo rippled with anger. “I ain’t no killer. But the judge sent me away for twelve years when all I did was help my mother’s no-good boyfriend. The heist was his idea, and he got most of the stuff. Borrego couldn’t catch him, so he persuaded the D.A. I was running the show. “
“What are you going to do?” Rachel tried to keep her tone conversational. Although she could feel Russ’s tension and the little girls’ anxiety, she didn’t dare let them affect her.
“Hold his daughter and grandkids until he confesses.” The man’s lip curled. “Maybe the press’ll believe me then.”
More likely, the press understood that some men would confess to anything to save their loved ones. No reason to say that, however.
“Have you moved for a retrial?” Rachel probed.
“Had a lousy lawyer, so I figured I’d better do this myself.” The guy grew more agitated. “I had everything figured out, but then that witch—Keri—ran off. Maybe I should just shoot you and go find her.”
Russ went rigid. Whimpering, Lauren buried her face in his jacket. Mary simply stared up in terror.
“But you aren’t a killer,” Rachel reminded the perp. “Besides, if your goal is to reduce your sentence, hurting people won’t help.” She didn’t mention that breaking out of prison and taking hostages constituted serious crimes in their own right. Let him go on believing that a previous injustice—real or imagined—justified his actions. “Have you contacted Vince?”
“I made Keri call him before Daddy here popped in and threw me off. I told Borrego to come alone if he ever wanted to see the kids again.” The man frowned at Rachel as another point occurred to him. “Did he send for you?”
“Absolutely not.” Dealing with this guy was like tiptoeing through a minefield. “I got a call from the industrial park, and your description matched an APB. I was checking on the open door.”
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