Plain Retribution

by Dana R. Lynn

  Just when she thought she could not stand the strain one more minute, Miles popped his head back through the door. His shaggy hair was going in all directions, as if he’d been running a frustrated hand through it. Many times. She tucked the corners of her mouth in, hoping to keep her smile from peeping through. Judging by the way he squinted at her, she wasn’t totally successful. He shrugged, and waved at them to come out.

  Two police cars were in front of Declan’s driveway. At least fifteen people dotted the street, craning their necks to get a full view of everything. It was probably the most excitement this small town had seen in a while. It was natural that they would be curious. Still, she ducked her head, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Miles, she noted, did his best to keep himself between the crowd and her, shielding her from prying eyes and any dangers that might come flying at them.

  Again, a smile threatened. It died completely when she saw Miles’s cruiser. She gasped. The side passenger window and the windshield were shattered. Another bullet had gone through the driver’s door. She knew without being told that they wouldn’t be driving back to LaMar Pond like that. It was going to be a long day.

  “Why shoot the car?” she signed to Miles, having trouble processing what she was seeing.

  “It was in the way.” He kept his face blank, but she sensed there was rage beneath the surface. She shivered. “He must have been over there—” he waved vaguely to the left “—and was trying to get to us in the garage. I assume he didn’t care who or what he hit.”

  The local police were questioning a woman about her mother’s age. The woman motioned down the street, then swung her arm in an outward arc toward the other side. When her finger was pointing at Declan’s house, she acted like she was aiming a gun at the garage. Then she jerked it back. Bang, bang. Rebecca could see it clearly in her head. Then the woman moved her arm and pointed toward the opposite end of the street.

  Miles moved to stand beside her. Uh-oh. His jaw was cranked so tight, she thought it would shatter if she touched it. A muscle jumped on the right side. Something the woman said was eating at him. What?

  Finally, the officer nodded and the woman drifted off. Miles turned to her. “The gist of that conversation is that the woman noticed a car driving down the street. Three, four times. Each time it got to this house, the driver would slow down. All she could see for sure was that he was wearing a dark hoodie, and the hood was up. The last time he went past, he opened fire.”

  “Why would he risk firing with witnesses around?” It didn’t make any sense.

  “There were no witnesses outside. She was upstairs in her sewing room, and just happened to be facing the window. He probably didn’t realize she could see him.”

  Okay. That made sense. “So, what else is wrong? You’re a lot more upset than you were ten minutes ago.” And that was saying something, because he was plenty upset then.

  He started.

  Yeah, busted, she thought, but kept it to herself.

  “I’m mad at myself mostly. You and Declan are in more danger, because of me.”

  She tilted her head, trying to make sense of that. “I don’t see that. You didn’t shoot at us.”

  He paced away, then turned and faced her. The torment in his blue eyes just about ripped her heart out. “But I should have trusted my gut more. I am almost one-hundred-percent sure the shooter was in that car I thought was following us earlier.”

  How to handle this? She was beginning to realize that her protector had a very sensitive soul. One that had been wounded before. He was also the kind of man to shoulder the blame for everything himself. She didn’t want to add to the guilt she could see weighing him down.

  “How could you have known?” she signed. “Once he realized he’d been spotted, he turned off before we could get a good look at him. You can’t see the future. Only God can. I think instead of blaming yourself, you should be praising Him. I am. He knew that there would be danger today, and sent me someone who would know how to keep me safe when it happened.”

  He shrugged. But his lips curled upward. She sighed, some of the ache dissipating.

  “I feel bad about him, though.” Miles jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Declan, who was still talking to the police. “He is going to take a leave of absence from work and go out of town. He’s in danger now. I think our interest in him has put him on the hit list.”

  Another person in harm’s way.

  “He might have been in danger anyway,” she argued. “Didn’t you say he was Terry Gleason’s last visitor? Maybe that’s why the shooter was so willing to kill him.”

  The lips that were still curled bloomed into a full smile, filled with wonder. Her breath caught in her throat. Stunning.

  “You are amazing, do you know that?”

  “Thanks,” she signed, flushing. Accepting praise was not her strong point. Deflection, however, was. “Do you think it was Gleason’s brother?”

  He cast her a glance that clearly said she wasn’t fooling him.

  After a moment, he nodded. “I do. I can’t prove it yet. But I need to find out as much as I can about the brother. Which means we need to get back to LaMar Pond.”

  She prayed with all her might that he would find the brother. Too many people were in danger. And she knew life wouldn’t get back to normal, for any of them, until whoever was responsible was stopped.

  Would this nightmare ever end?

  * * *

  This was getting out of control.

  Miles tightened his grip on the steering wheel and clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He forced himself to relax. No sense letting himself get riled up. He couldn’t afford to let his judgment get clouded.

  Speaking of that...

  He angled his head until he had a clear view of Rebecca, fast asleep in the passenger seat. Poor woman. She was exhausted. They’d had to wait around for two hours until the glass repair people had come and fixed the broken windows. He’d have to wait to get the damage done to the actual door repaired, but at least the car was drivable again.

  Rebecca had conked out soon after they had left, giving him time to think.

  And worry. He was getting too attached to Rebecca. He knew it. Had known it as soon as he realized how anxious he was at leaving her alone inside the garage to talk to the other police officers. Okay, so Declan was there, and the man looked like he knew how to take care of himself. But Miles hated trusting Rebecca’s safety to anyone else.

  Getting emotionally involved was a bad thing. Hadn’t he learned his lesson when his mom left, nearly destroying his dad? Or, even more recently, when he’d let his judgment get skewed enough to act like some vigilante?

  Reflexively, he moved one hand to his shoulder, where his sergeant insignia had once been. He shouldn’t complain. It was his own fault he’d been reduced in rank. It could have been worse. The chief would have been justified in firing him altogether. Miles knew that. He was humbled and grateful for the opportunity to prove himself.

  An opportunity he could easily mess up again if he allowed his feelings to interfere.

  Not just that, he realized. If his feelings got in the way, it could keep him from seeing a threat or a clue. Someone could get hurt because of him. Rebecca could get hurt.

  Or worse.

  Time to man up, Miles. This isn’t the time for a relationship.

  They were almost back to LaMar Pond. He hated to disturb her, but knew he needed to. He waited until the last minute, though. Finally, as he parked the car outside of Seth’s house, he had to wake her.

  He reached out a hand and gently shook her.

  Screeching like a scalded cat, she shot up in her seat, hands out in front as if she was ready to fight. The seat belt pulled her up short. He watched the realization of where she was sink in. And grinned as she slumped back into her seat, glaring.


  Trying to wipe the grin from his face, he leaned up against the door, hands raised. He started to sign. A laugh spluttered from him. Her glare intensified, lids lowering until her eyes were almost slits. She was adorable.

  “Sorry! You’re back at Seth and Jess’s house. It was time for you to wake up.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t squelch the chuckles that kept coming. His shoulders shook with the effort to hold them back. It was most likely the stress of the past few days catching up with him.

  He was about to issue another apology, worried that he’d really offended her, when her lips started to twitch.

  “Fine. Whatever. Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?”

  He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. “Yeah, sure.”

  So, of course he did. He rolled his eyes at himself when she got out of the car.

  He looked around and frowned. “Is anyone else here?” She swiveled her head around in surprise. All the cars were gone.

  Raising his watch, he saw he had missed several messages. And an alert. He must have switched it to mute by accident. Of all the times for that to happen.

  “Hold on,” he signed. “I have several messages.”

  “Let’s go inside, I will fix coffee, and you can check your messages.”

  Made sense. He nodded and followed her inside the house, then did a walk-through to make sure everything was secure. Then he joined her in the kitchen. While she busied herself making coffee, he read through his messages. His alarm grew with each message.

  By the time she sat down across from him with two mugs, his nerves were buzzing, making sitting still difficult.

  “What’s wrong?” she signed.

  Of course, she’d pick up on the body language. One thing was for sure, he’d never be able to lie to her. Not that he ever would—he’d learned that deception was a very poor choice.

  “I have messages from Seth, the chief, Jackson...everyone! There was a fire at the LaMar Pond Senior Center. Residents need to be evacuated. Seth is there. He says he dropped Jess off at his sister Maggie’s house.”

  “Oh, no!” she signed. “Was anyone injured?”

  He tapped his watch to view the message that was just coming in. And grimaced. “Yes. Multiple injuries, from mild to severe. And two residents died. One of the residents who died was Sergeant Zee’s grandmother. She’s going to need to help her family deal with this situation.”

  “You need to go.” It wasn’t a question. Her signs were calm, rational, giving him permission to go do his job.

  But he could sense the fear. She couldn’t lie to him, either.

  “I need to go, but I won’t leave you unattended. Seth won’t be back until all the residents have been checked over. Nor do we have an extra police officer to spare to guard you right now. Let me think.”

  She waited, sipping her coffee. He paced the room. Where would she be safe until this crisis was over? Then it hit him.

  “Come on. I’m taking you to stay with my family. My grandparents and uncle live less than half an hour from here.”

  “Will I be safe there?”

  A valid question. “I believe you will. No one will know you’re there except for those I tell. And my uncle and grandfather both know how to handle a gun. Plus, I know they have a security system in place. It made sense, because they’re all deaf.”

  Some of the fear seemed to melt away. He got it. The possibility of being unable to communicate was part of what scared her. That would not be a problem at his grandparents’ house. Even the majority of their guests were skilled signers.

  It took her only a few minutes to gather together her things and get ready. Within forty-five minutes they were pulling into his grandparents’ driveway.

  As he’d expected, his family and grandparents were delighted to have her stay with them. Sally and Bruce Olsen were the kind of people who never turned anyone out. And his uncle Greg lived to entertain others. The fact that he was completely deaf had never stood in his way.

  For a moment, Miles was struck by how different the rest of his family was from him and his father. And not just in the fact that they couldn’t hear, either. The rest of the family was open and embraced life and people. Miles’s father, on the other hand, had allowed bitterness to taint everything he did. And Miles? He didn’t think he was bitter, but he sure wasn’t as accepting as the others.

  “I will come back later. Is it okay if I take the couch for the night?”

  “Of course!” his gran signed. The smile she beamed at him was the best guilt trip ever. It was filled with joy. And gratitude. As if him coming to stay with them was an unexpected gift. He needed to stop by more often. When had he become too busy to visit his family? Before the guilt could swamp him too much, she continued. “I will leave the front porch light on. And something to eat in the refrigerator.”

  Where was Rebecca? She had disappeared with his uncle while he had talked with his grandparents. He should say goodbye.

  Why? She knew where he was going. It wasn’t like she was his girl.

  He wished she was. That rocked him off balance. When had she become so important to him? The emotional tug he felt toward her had sneaked up and sunk its claws into his heart without his even being aware just how deep he was falling.

  But he didn’t have to act on it. Everyone would be better off if he stopped thinking about Rebecca and refocused on the job. Because that was what he was good at.

  Giving his gran a kiss, he walked out the door without seeking out Rebecca.

  * * *

  Hours later, Miles let himself back into the house. It was dark outside. He had expected to find everyone asleep. So he was astounded to find Rebecca sitting up waiting for him at the kitchen table.

  The moment she spotted him, she stood and yawned. Then she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. He enfolded her in his arms before recalling he was going to keep his distance. Now that he held her, though, he was powerless to let her go. The scent of her shampoo was just what he needed to soothe his frazzled nerves.

  Finally, he pulled back and allowed himself to drink in her tired face. Wow, those eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen. Had she slept at all? Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath them.

  “Everything okay?” he signed, wondering why his grandparents hadn’t contacted him if something was amiss.

  “Fine. But I was worried. You were gone for so long. All I could think of is what if my attacker went after you because of me.”

  She moved back. He let his arms drop, immediately missing her.

  So he took a step back, too.

  They had no future. He had to remember that. The turmoil that gnawed at him made him want to yell. He needed a workout. A bout with his karate sensei. Anything to relieve his anguish.

  “Your grandma and uncle showed me some pictures.”

  His heart dropped. Instinctively, he knew what pictures she was talking about.

  “Sylvie?”

  She nodded, her face shadowed. Yes, she understood it was a painful memory.

  Rubbing his hands across his face, he tried to erase the image of Sylvie lying in a coffin from his brain. It made no difference. He figured that image was burned into his soul forever.

  She reached out and took his hand with her left one, leaving the right one free to sign. “Want to tell me about it?”

  No, no.

  But he stopped. Actually, he did. The words he’d kept in for so long were ready to burst from him. But only to her.

  “Did my grandmother tell you that Sylvie was my stepsister?” He waited. She bobbed her fist quickly, up and down. Yes. “When I was a kid, my mom never had time for me. Or my dad. She was a former model, used to living well and being the center of attention. Being stuck in small-town Pennsylvania didn’t appeal to her. When
she left us to go back to that life, it broke my dad’s heart. Then she was killed in a scandalous way, and the tabloid frenzy nearly killed him, too. My grandparents took me in, because he wasn’t capable of caring for me.”

  Once he got started, the words erupted from him, like lava from a volcano. They burned. She didn’t interrupt. And her presence was an anchor, helping him continue.

  “After several years, he managed to stop drinking. And he married again. Louise, his new wife, was great. I loved her more than the mother I barely remembered. Isn’t that terrible?”

  Her head moved back and forth. No. But she didn’t say anything, even when a tear slipped down her cheek.

  “She had a daughter. Sylvie. Several years younger than me. I adored that kid. She was such a brat at times, but she was my sister, even though we weren’t related by blood.”

  He paced to the bookshelf, looked at the pictures. The hardest part was yet to come. “My mom, though, she’d destroyed my dad’s ability to trust. Louise tried to help him heal, but she eventually divorced him because she couldn’t deal with the constant badgering. The lack of trust. I tried to keep in touch. And I saw Sylvie as much as I could. Then she got murdered while she was in college. And I thought I knew who did it. The woman who was convicted was released after four years. I made her life miserable. Because I knew her presence in town, walking around free after killing Sylvie, hurt Louise. You want to know the worst thing?”

  He laughed. There was no humor in it.

  “Turned out the woman convicted wasn’t the murderer. She was innocent. My cruel, dangerous actions seriously upset a woman who had done nothing wrong. They almost cost me my job. And my self-respect. They did cost me my rank as sergeant. I decided then and there I would prove myself. Get my rank back. Which means I can’t ever let my emotions get the better of me. Not again.”

  TWELVE

  And there it was.

  Dawn was breaking, and Rebecca was still tossing and turning in her bed in the guest room, unable to stop reliving the conversation she’d had with Miles several hours ago. She’d left the kitchen struggling not to show just how shattered his revelation had left her. And not just the matter of his stepsister’s murder. Or his stepping out of his role as a protector and admitting his mistakes in the past. Because she knew God was merciful, and redemption was possible. Hadn’t she seen for herself what an honorable man he was?