Plain Retribution

by Dana R. Lynn

  She cast her gaze down to her folded hands for a moment. He wondered if she was going to answer when she looked up again. “I suppose it’s possible. April had been planning to go out of town this weekend to see her parents. Her mother had asked her to go a day early. She asked me a week ago if I could take the closing shift alone.”

  Which meant anyone who talked to April could have gotten that information.

  “Did closing by yourself bother you? Please don’t take this the wrong way, but most customers can’t sign.”

  A brief smile lit her face. “Most of the people are fine using paper and pen to talk with me. Besides, I was only alone an hour before the store closed. We don’t usually have many customers at that hour anyway. Most of the work I did was closing out the drawer and getting things put away.”

  “Is April still at her parents’ house?”

  She nodded, and Miles made a note to himself to confirm it. That was easy enough to check out.

  “Rebecca...” He paused, trying to figure out how to phrase the question. Then he decided to just put it out there. She wouldn’t hesitate to ask the same question if their positions were reversed. “Did you tell anyone where you were staying last night? That we had moved you here?”

  A blank look. Then slowly, like the dawn rising, he could see the comprehension and consternation moving into her face. He liked the way he could tell what she was feeling at a glance. No secret motives there. He doubted if she could pull off hiding her emotions.

  “Yeah,” she signed, bobbing her right hand at the wrist like a nodding head, the thumb and pinky spread out while the other digits were folded over against her palm. “Tracy, the other girl who works at the bookstore. I’m supposed to work with her today. I told her there was an incident and that I was staying with a friend. I also told her that I’d call her later to let her know if I would be able to come into work today.”

  Miles’s first instinct was to give her a resounding no. She couldn’t go into work today. He wanted her to stay safe. But where was safe? She ought to have been safe at the Travis home. Now that her location was known, he’d have to see about extra patrols here.

  And, he needed to check on some leads so he could solve this case.

  But in the meantime, was it really that dangerous for her to go to work? If she was at the bookstore with an officer, she should be okay. Obviously, he would drive her to and from the store. As much as he wanted to stay with her, he had a job to do.

  A red flag went up as he realized how much he wanted to stay with her. But he needed to be the one working the case. Chief Kennedy was counting on him. Even more than that, he was aware that he wouldn’t rest easy unless he knew for sure every rock was being overturned to find the culprits. And that meant he was getting too close, too involved.

  He needed to get this done so he could step away.

  No good would come from entanglement. Hadn’t his mother’s betrayal and death taught him that? Even though his father had later remarried a wonderful woman, the betrayal of his first wife had led to the mistrust that had ultimately destroyed that second marriage. Miles wouldn’t become the fool his dad had been. Even being alone was preferable to that.

  The words sounded good. But the hollow pang in his heart mocked him.

  * * *

  She didn’t like the way Miles’s expression had darkened. His face was neutral enough, but the pain in his eyes overwhelmed her. She wanted to reach out and grab his hand, shake him out of his black thoughts. Offer him some of the comfort he had so generously given to her over the past few days.

  Instead, she placed her hands firmly on her lap while she waited for him to speak. The effort to not interrupt his thoughts and argue that she should go to work turned her knuckles white. A quick burst of pain shot through her palms. When had she fisted her hands? Her fingernails were digging in deep. Mam frowned on her longer nails. Her pretty pink painted nails. Nails that weren’t practical at all, but fancy for no reason other than that she liked them that way. Right at the moment they were causing her more discomfort than they were worth. She intentionally unclenched her hands, stretching them wide.

  “You okay?” Miles was looking at her, his brow wrinkled in concern.

  He was just a tad too observant. It was useless to try and control her facial expressions. They were too ingrained in her, and were as natural as breathing.

  “Fine,” she signed back, tapping the thumb of her right hand into the center of her chest, keeping her fingers spread wide. “I just scratched myself with my fingernails.”

  He nodded, accepting her excuse.

  No wonder. There were other things to consider.

  “Here’s my thoughts.” They weren’t happy thoughts, judging by the frown on his face. He switched back to pidgin. “I think you should go into work. I need to check out the leads we have. I will ask Chief Kennedy to have an officer meet us at the shop so you won’t be alone.”

  Rebecca chided herself for the spurt of disappointment that his words evoked. Well, of course he couldn’t stay with her. He had a job to do. It wasn’t like she was anything more than his latest case. Anyway, it would be better for them to spend some time apart. She was far too attracted to him as it was.

  “Let me call Tracy. Let her know I’m coming in later. What time? I work from ten to four every Saturday.”

  Miles brought his arm up to glance at the watch on it.

  “It’s ten thirty now. Tell her you’ll be in before noon. I will drop you off before I go into work. That will give the chief time to find coverage to stay with you while you’re there. Which means I should call him now. Excuse me.”

  Before she could respond, he turned and left the room, tapping on his watch and talking. Why did the room feel so empty without him? Weird. She really needed to stop staring at him. Especially since two of his colleagues were sitting at the table with her. Face burning, she tried to be nonchalant as she met their gazes. Fortunately, both men were professional in their demeanor.

  Awkwardness set in. They couldn’t speak with her, not with Miles out of the room, and they appeared to be unsure if it would be impolite to carry on a conversation that would exclude her. She had to appreciate the sensitivity. Many people would have been completely unaware of how left out and alone she felt while they conversed. Even her parents had not been aware of how abandoned she often felt, sitting alone in silence at mealtimes while the flow of conversation and activity moved around her. When her throat grew hot and tight and her eyes burned, she realized she had let her past take control. Again.

  When, Lord? When will I learn to control my emotions? To let go of these feelings?

  Tired of feeling useless and sorry for herself, she stalked to the stove. Nothing soothed her like cooking or painting did. Since she had left all her art supplies at the apartment, cooking was her best option. Jess hadn’t started lunch yet, and Rebecca really needed to eat before she went into work. With all the excitement that morning, she had forgotten all about breakfast. But now she was remembering with a vengeance. Her stomach was starting to churn, as hunger rippled through her.

  Bending down, she dragged a pot out of the cupboard and filled it with tap water. Water sloshed out of it as she set it on the burner. She felt the handle vibrating in her hand from the force with which she’d slammed it down. Wow. She hadn’t meant to be so aggressive. She shrugged. No harm done.

  Footsteps vibrated behind her. She whirled around as Miles burst through the door. His gaze darted back and forth, searching for something. What was wrong with him? There was a wild glint in his eyes. Lieutenant Tucker and Sergeant Jackson both came half out of their seats, their hands flying to the guns strapped into their holsters.

  “What’s going on?” Miles demanded, his signs abrupt. “What crashed in here?”

  Sergeant Jackson settled back in his seat and crossed his arms, a mock
ing grin on his face. He uncrossed his left arm long enough to jerk a thumb in her direction. Miles started to sign to her what he said, hesitated, then continued, flicking a concerned glance her way.

  “Jackson says you were banging the pots around. Are you angry? I’m sure your boss would understand if you didn’t go to work today given the circumstances.”

  Lieutenant Tucker rolled his eyes. Sergeant Jackson’s smirk widened. What? She looked closer. Miles’s ears were turning red. Apparently, that wasn’t all Jackson had said. Her lips tightened.

  “I want to go to work. And I was feeling frustrated by the situation. Which I think is normal.”

  He nodded and interpreted.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she fixed a hard stare on Sergeant Jackson while she continued to sign. “Please inform Sergeant Jackson that it is rude to say things in front of me that you would not feel comfortable interpreting.”

  Jackson’s mouth dropped open, making him resemble a fish. A tide of red surged up his neck and face, melding with his hairline under his dark hair. Miles smirked and slapped him on the back. She could see Jackson’s lip curling up in a mock snarl. Then he gave Miles a playful shove. And Miles shoved back. Within seconds, they were both grinning.

  They were like children. Full-grown men with difficult jobs and important responsibilities...goofing off like children on a playground. Shaking her head, she turned around and grabbed up one of Jess’s magazines to leaf through while she waited. After a few minutes, she switched her attention back to her pot of water, now boiling on the stove. She measured out two cups of macaroni. Stopped. Measured out two more. None of these men were small. They all were tall and muscular. And they had worked hard combing the woods. She shuddered, remembering why. No! She would not dwell on that. God was in control. She needed to give Him the fear. Still, her stomach turned and quaked. The fear in her was so strong, she knew it would choke her if she didn’t control it. Forcing herself to concentrate on fixing the meal, she measured two more cups of macaroni, ignoring the way her hand shook.

  Someone entered the room. She froze, then relaxed as another officer entered the room. It was Claire. Rebecca smiled at the red-headed officer who had stayed with her two nights earlier. The woman had so much responsibility on her plate, but seemed to be handling it well.

  She tracked the young officer’s path across the floor to the table where the men sat. They all looked up at her arrival. Their faces showed varied levels of expectation and dread. Why dread? With a grimace, the woman slapped a crinkled picture in the center of the table. Rebecca wrinkled her nose. She could see the mud stuck to the picture from where she sat.

  Miles shot to his feet, jerking his head in her direction. Lieutenant Tucker said something to the woman, and she responded. Both faces were grim.

  Rebecca clenched her jaw. Lipreading had never been her forte. As many times as she had insisted she didn’t care, she wished she could just this once.

  What was in that picture that had Miles so shook up?

  Curiosity burned in her mind. Without making a deliberate decision to do so, she stepped toward the table to get a better look. And felt her world tilting.

  Bile surged in her throat. She was choking. She couldn’t breathe. The picture lay there, mocking her. The glass measuring cup slipped from her numb fingers, shattering on the immaculate kitchen floor. Macaroni and glass flew in every direction.

  Footsteps. Miles was there, his big hands warm on her shoulders. Every other part of her was so cold. The panicky thought flitted through her mind that she’d never be warm again.

  She could feel his gentle breath on her ear. She shivered. He was talking. She felt more footsteps. Police were on every side of her. And Jess was there, taking her arm. No doubt she’d heard the crash. Jess could hear quite a bit with her hearing aids in.

  She shook off Jess. Her friend didn’t understand. She hadn’t seen it. She didn’t know. Her arm weighed a ton as she pointed at the offending picture on the table. Miles’s hands tightened on her shoulders before he turned her away from it and pulled her head against his chest, shielding her. She burrowed in, squeezing her eyes closed. She felt Jess grab her hand again. This time she didn’t shake her off, but held on tight. Raising eyes that burned, she caught sight of Jess’s ashen complexion.

  Feeling like her right arm was coated in cement, she raised it, signing to Jess and Miles, “That picture was in a frame on my desk. I didn’t notice it was missing before. It was taken last year.”

  Jess rubbed Rebecca’s cold hand briskly between her own two warm hands. The masculine arm around her shoulders tightened. But no matter how much they comforted her, she didn’t think she’d ever rid herself of the image of her, Jess and Holly, laughing at the camera. Or the big red X slashed through Holly’s face.

  EIGHT

  Rebecca pulled away from Miles. His arm moved from her shoulders, but he kept the palm of his hand firmly on one. The warmth sank in, sending a flow of comfort coursing through her. Lieutenant Tucker took his place on her left side. She allowed the two officers to lead her around the debris and back to the table. Miles let her go long enough to sweep the disturbing picture off the table and hand it to Jackson, who neatly shoved it inside his jacket.

  Lieutenant Tucker left her side once she was situated. He said something to Jess, who gave a jerky nod before disappearing. A moment later, she came to the door of the kitchen and handed him a broom and dustpan.

  Her eyes met Rebecca’s. Years of friendship trickled through that glance, and Rebecca read her concern and fear in an instant. “I’m fine,” she signed to her friend. “I have two cops right here with me.”

  Some of the worry left Jess’s expression. But her face was still shadowed. “Okay. I’m not abandoning you. Jace has asked Seth and me to remain in the other part of the house while the police investigate this situation.”

  Jace? She was confused for a moment before a lightbulb switched on in her brain. Lieutenant Tucker. She couldn’t bring herself to think of the man so casually. Although she did remember seeing him and his pretty wife at Jess’s wedding.

  The wedding. A happy time so far removed from all that was happening now.

  Miles pulled a chair close to her and sank onto it, about a foot away from her. If she stretched out her hand...

  Wait. What? Relying on a man was not something she wanted to do. But it was Miles, her mind argued. He was sweet. And protective. And she trusted him. Didn’t she?

  Without warning, another face shot into her mind. A smile that had seemed innocent at first. Only later did she see the menace behind it. Shackles on the wall stood in stark relief in her memory. She rubbed her wrists as if she could still feel them cutting into her skin. The total darkness of the room. The complete lack of sight and vision had preyed on her senses, on her emotions, for what felt like much longer than the two days until she was rescued.

  A face appeared in her line of vision, and a hand tapped her arm. Instinctively she recoiled. Then regretted it as hurt flashed in the blue eyes before her.

  When would she ever learn to control her reactions? Was she destined to live in fear of men because of one man’s actions? Not all men were cruel. And not all touches were bad. Forcing her breathing to slow, she worked her mouth into what she hoped was an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she signed. “I’m freaked out right now. Didn’t mean to react so much.”

  A streak of warmth returned to his face. “I understand.”

  Before he could continue, she broke in. The questions were fizzing up inside her like a bottle of soda that had been shaken. She could feel the pressure.

  “Where did Claire get that picture?” She swiveled her head around. The female officer had taken off. As had Jackson.

  Miles intercepted the next question. “Jackson and Sergeant Zerosky are headed back out to the station. The picture was found on the road n
ear where we think the shooter parked his vehicle.”

  “Why would he need it? Was it to terrorize me more? To taunt me?” A single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. She swiped it off with her fist. Now was not the time to cry. She wanted answers. Correction—she wanted her life back. Now.

  Miles let out a sigh. It was hard enough to ruffle the bangs on her forehead.

  “It wouldn’t make sense for him to taunt you. That doesn’t seem to be his method.” His signs paused. He tilted his head and tapped one long forefinger against his chin.

  Rebecca sucked in a breath. Held it. He was debating how much to tell her. She didn’t want him to clam up now. And too much of a reaction might convince him she could not handle the truth. Which, if she was honest with herself, she was not sure she could. But to be left in the dark was not something she was willing to accept.

  It felt like forever as she waited. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and raised his hands to resume signing. She let out her breath. “My best guess is that someone gave him the picture so that he would recognize his targets. The lieutenant agrees with me.”

  Rebecca raised her hands then dropped them again. There were just no words. She went numb. A helpless shrug was all she could muster to convey her complete sense of discombobulation.

  “I will figure it out,” Miles signed, an earnest frown wrinkling his brow. His hair almost covered it. In normal circumstances it would have been adorable.

  The need to escape was strong. Overpowering.

  “I need to get ready for work.”

  Rebecca bolted from the room and raced down the hall. Diving into the guest room Jess had prepared for her, she shoved the door closed behind her. All at once, her burst of energy drained out of her. She felt shaky and weak. Leaning against the door, she pressed her forehead against the wood. As if the pressure could erase everything she’d been through in the past few days.