To her surprise, he reached for her hand, his fingers hot from fever as he patted her knuckles. He didn’t speak, and she couldn’t speak.
“Officer Wallace said he’s going to stop by your place after the evidence team arrives at the scene.” Stella broke the silence, not a hint of sympathy in her voice. “I told him I’d give you the message. Here’s one from me. The next time you want to go running off, don’t.”
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have left you with Samuel,” she managed to say.
“You think that’s what this is about?” Stella glared into the rearview mirror. “Me not wanting to babysit the kid? I’ve got news for you, sister. Someone was in the woods with you this morning. That person fired a shot that could have taken you out like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“He’s long gone,” Raina pointed out, tears drying on her cheeks, some of the shock of seeing the stuffed dog fading away.
Maybe that’s what Stella had hoped for.
“You can’t know that. The woods are pretty dense, and it would be easy for someone to hide in them,” Stella pointed out.
“Jackson saw him drive away.” And Raina couldn’t imagine that the guy would have wanted to hang around. Not with the police there.
“In a Jeep with a flat tire,” Jackson broke in. “He might have pulled off the road and run into the woods. Anything is possible, Raina, and Stella is right, you need to be more careful.”
If she hadn’t seen the photo of the stuffed dog, she might have argued that the man in the woods had been a random stranger, someone who’d been as surprised by her as she had been by him, but the dog...
Thinking about it made her stomach churn and her throat ache. Had the dog been left there for her to find?
If so, by whom?
And why?
“The dog was your son’s,” Jackson said. Not a question, but she nodded anyway. “When was the last time you saw it?”
“A few weeks ago.” Destiny had helped her clean out Joseph’s room. They’d packed up all the things that had been sitting in the closet and the toy chest—little boy things that needed to be replaced with things a ten-year-old would enjoy.
She’d felt ready to let go of the clothes and all the stuffed animals Joseph had loved so much, but it had still been difficult. Without Destiny’s prodding, she wasn’t sure she could have done it. “My friend and I cleaned out Joseph’s room. The dog was with the things we packed up.”
“What did you do with it?”
“My friend took it to Goodwill. I had to work.” And she hadn’t had the heart to put the boxes of Joseph’s things in her car and drive away with them.
“You’re sure she took the dog to Goodwill?” Stella asked as they turned onto the dirt road that led to Raina’s house.
“Yes. There were several boxes, and she took them all.”
“Do you think it’s possible your friend took the dog? Maybe as a keepsake? Something to remember your son by?”
“I don’t know why she would have. If she did, she wouldn’t have left it in the woods.”
“You’re sure about that?” Stella pulled into the driveway and turned to look over the seat. “People often do unexpected things.”
“Not Destiny. She’s as dependable as sunrise.”
“That’s what everyone says right around the time they find out their best friend or sister or husband—”
“Stella,” Jackson interrupted. “How about we let the police figure things out?”
“Because your brother won’t like it if we butt our noses in?”
“Because you’re tired, and it’s starting to show.”
“What are you talking about? Since when do I ever act tired?” she demanded.
Raina got out of the SUV. Let the two of them argue about what the police should handle or not. She needed to get Samuel inside, give him something for his fever, feed him.
“Come on, Samuel,” she said, offering her hand. “We’re home.”
“This is not home,” he responded, but he allowed himself to be helped out of the car. She handed him his crutch, would have ushered him into the house, but Jackson got out of the SUV.
“I’ll get his bag and walk the two of you in. I want to check the house. Make sure it’s clear before we leave.”
“There’s no need.”
“I think there is, Raina,” he responded, his eyes the deep dark blue of the evening sky. She could lose herself in eyes like his, so she looked away, concentrating on the ground, on Samuel’s threadbare shoes, on her own scuffed boots.
“You don’t really think someone is waiting in my house, do you?” she asked.
“Probably not.” Stella got out of the SUV and stretched. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, and her clothes hung limp and wrinkled from her thin frame. She’d been traveling for nearly two days, and it showed. “But better safe than sorry. Besides, I’m in desperate need of a cup of coffee. I drove all the way from Atlanta. Much as I hate to admit that Jackson is right, I’m wrung out. A little caffeine before we head back to D.C. wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
“I should have thought of that,” Raina admitted. “Come on in. I’ll start coffee and make everyone some breakfast.”
“What kind of breakfast?” Stella asked.
“Bacon? Eggs? Pancakes?”
“You’re speaking my language, sister. Let’s go.” She hooked her arm through Raina’s and dragged her toward the house.
Jackson watched them go.
He had to give Stella credit. She knew how to get what the team wanted. Whether it was a helicopter in a third world country, last minute hotel accommodations in Paris or an invitation into the home of a woman who didn’t seem to think she needed protection, she managed it.
He grabbed Samuel’s beat-up backpack from the SUV. No suitcase. No electronic devices. No toys. Just the one bag that probably contained everything Samuel had ever owned.
The morning had gone quiet, the sun cresting the trees and shimmering in the pristine sky. Across the street, an old house jutted up from a sparse brown yard. There were no other neighbors. Whoever had been stalking Raina through the woods would have little to deter him if he decided to break into her house.
He carried Samuel’s backpack up the porch steps, scanning the front yard as he went. It was a nice piece of property set on a pretty lot. He imagined Raina and her husband had been thinking that when they’d bought it, and he couldn’t help wondering what Raina thought about it now.
Jackson had read the newspaper articles. He knew that Pastor Matt Lowery had been driving his son to get ice cream when he’d plunged over an embankment. He’d been killed instantly. Raina’s son had survived for three days before succumbing to his injuries.
It couldn’t be easy to live in the house they’d all shared.
He knocked, then opened the door and stepped inside. The place was homey, the living room furnished with a sturdy couch and love seat, two end tables and a coffee table. A large fireplace took up most of one wall, a watercolor painting hanging above it.
Someone had painted the walls a cheery yellow and hung flowery curtains from the windows. The place wasn’t cheery, though. It had the empty stagnant feel of museum air. He knew how that happened, knew what it was like when a member of a family suddenly wasn’t there. His parents had tried to fill the space Charity had left, but they’d never been able to. Eventually, they’d sold the house Jackson had been raised in, downsizing to a little cottage on a couple of acres.
He followed the sound of voices through the living room and into a dining room. A doorway opened from there into the kitchen. Spacious and gleaming, it felt warmer than the other rooms. A small square table stood against one wall, the Formica top nicked with age and use. Stella sat in a chair there, a cup of coffee in her hands, exhaustion etching fine l
ines near the corners of her eyes. Samuel leaned against the counter, his crutch forgotten on the floor beside him. Like Stella, he looked exhausted, his eyes tracking Raina’s movements as she cracked eggs into a skillet.
“There’s coffee in the pot. Mugs in the cupboard next to the sink. Go ahead and pour yourself some,” Raina said, glancing over her shoulder and offering a smile. “If you take cream, it’s in the fridge. Sugar in that little jar on the table.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed a mug, poured the coffee. No cream or sugar. Just black. He needed it as much as Stella seemed to. He’d been pushing hard for the past few months, running mission after mission. If he hadn’t nearly gotten himself killed in Egypt, he’d probably still be running.
“Want some help with the food?” he asked.
“No. Thanks.” She turned back to the eggs, her shoulders tense, her hand shaking as she cracked another one into the skillet.
“I’m thinking you do.” He leaned over her shoulder, picked a piece of shell from the pan. “Otherwise, we’ll all be eating crunchy scrambled eggs.”
“You cook it, and we’ll be eating burnt eggs,” Stella muttered.
“I don’t burn food,” he protested, the scent of flowers and sunshine filling his nose. At first he thought the window was open and a spring breeze was wafting in. But it wasn’t spring, and the air outside was cool and moist.
Raina shifted, her hair brushing his chin, and the scents floated in the air again. Flowers. Sunshine.
“Nice shampoo,” he murmured without thinking, and Raina’s cheeks went three shades of red.
She ducked away, hurrying to a bright yellow refrigerator that looked as if it had been there since the 1940s. “I have bacon and sausage. Which do you prefer?”
He wasn’t sure who she was asking, but Stella shook her head. “No bacon. No sausage. Not for me, anyway. And I don’t think for Samuel. He looks like he’s about to fall over.”
“He needs to get some sleep, but I want him to eat first.” Raina spooned eggs onto a plate, dropped a slice of toast onto it and set it on the table. “There you go, Samuel.”
“I’m not hungry.” But Samuel sat down anyway, accepting the fork that Raina handed him and digging into the food.
Hungry or not, it seemed he was going to eat.
Stella, on the other hand, shook her head when Raina offered her a plate. “I’m too tired to eat. I don’t even think the coffee is going to wake me up.”
“I have a couple of spare rooms,” Raina said as she scooped more eggs onto the plate. “You’re welcome to use one.”
“If the room in question has a bed, I’m there.”
“It does.” Raina buttered a second piece of toast, spread jam on top of it and set it next to the eggs. She handed the plate to Jackson, and unlike Stella, he wasn’t too tired to eat.
“Thanks.”
“There’s no need for thanks,” Raina said. “A couple of eggs and two slices of toast doesn’t even come close to repaying you for what you did in Africa.”
“We got paid well for that gig. You don’t have to feed the guy to thank him.” Stella scowled.
“Hey,” Jackson protested, digging into the eggs. “If she wants to cook, let her cook.”
“She doesn’t. She’s just doing it because she feels sorry for you.”
“Why,” Jackson asked, knowing he was going to regret it, “would she feel sorry for me?”
“Because you’re scrawny and look like a stiff breeze could blow you over. Your own fault. If you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself—”
“How about you be quiet and let me enjoy my food,” he growled. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Egypt and the mistake he’d made there. It had nearly cost him his life. Something that Chance had mentioned dozens of times since Jackson had returned home with thirty stitches in his side.
“Why? Because you don’t want me to embarrass you in front of a pretty young woman?” Stella smirked.
“This isn’t junior high, Stel,” he said mildly. “I’m not worried about being embarrassed in front of a beautiful woman.”
“I said pretty. Guess you get an upgrade, Raina,” Stella quipped.
Raina didn’t look amused.
She looked appalled, her cheeks blazing. “I...think I’ll go change the sheets on the beds in the spare rooms.”
She sprinted into a small alcove and up stairs that creaked and groaned beneath her feet.
“Not cool, Stella,” he chided.
Stella didn’t look at all contrite. “Sure it was. I wanted her out of here, and I got my way.”
“You could have just asked for privacy.”
“Probably, but I’m used to working in more subtle ways.” She rubbed the back of her neck and yawned. “What do you think, Jack? Are we going to be here more than a few hours?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Nothing that needs immediate discussion.”
“Then why ask at all?”
“Because a girl likes to know what she’s got on her agenda. If we’re staying until we take a nap and regain some pep, that’s one thing. If we stay for a couple of days—” she shrugged “—I need to rearrange my schedule.”
“You don’t have any missions. Not for the next week or two.” Like Jackson, Stella was going on a forced vacation. Chance’s idea. He’d insisted they both needed time to renew.
He was probably right, but it wasn’t something Jackson planned to admit. Not to his brother, anyway.
“What’s your point, Jack?”
“That your schedule is probably as empty as mine is.”
“You’re assuming that I don’t have a social life, and you’re assuming wrong.” She tossed nonexistent locks of hair over her shoulder and probably would have made a show of marching from the room, but her gaze dropped to Samuel.
He’d managed to eat half the eggs and a few bites of toast, but his head was drooping. His eyes closed.
“He’s about to face-plant in the eggs,” she commented. “You keep him from doing that, and I’ll go ask Raina where he’s going to be sleeping.”
She left the room but didn’t head upstairs.
Apparently, she had something else to do. A phone call to make? He could hear her talking to someone, and he was curious to know who. Every member of HEART was family, and in his family, one person’s business was every person’s business.
He’d have followed her, gotten close enough to eavesdrop, if he hadn’t had Samuel to contend with. The kid was drifting off again, his head dropping closer to the plate and the eggs that were still on it.
He eased the boy up, pressed the fork back into his hand.
“You need to eat more,” he encouraged, his head cocked to the side as he strained to hear what Stella was saying.
No luck with that. The walls of the old house were thick and he couldn’t hear anything but faint mumblings and the soft creak of the floor above his head.
“I’ve been had, Samuel,” he said, dropping into the chair beside the young boy.
Samuel nodded, his eyes glassy and vague.
“Stella is a wily one,” he continued, hoping to keep Samuel awake.
“What is wily?” Samuel mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.
“Smart. Sneaky.”
Samuel shrugged, his eyelids drooping as he shoved another bite of eggs into his mouth. “I like Stella.”
“Everyone likes Stella, but that doesn’t mean she’s not a manipulative piece of work.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Samuel responded, and then the fork dropped from his hand, his eyes closed and Jackson just managed to catch him before the face-plant Stella had predicted came true.
FIVE
An hour later, and everyone had been tucked away into his or her own bedroom. Jackson knew
he should try to sleep, but he felt wound-up and on edge. Too much coffee and too many eggs. Not to mention the third piece of toast Raina had made him after she’d gotten Samuel into bed.
Homemade bread and homemade raspberry jam. Breakfast had been the best he’d eaten in months. Maybe even years. That didn’t say much about the quality of Jackson’s culinary skills. Not that he spent all that much time in his D.C. apartment. When he was there, he didn’t cook. He ate out. Sometimes alone, sometimes with one of his siblings. Sometimes with a date.
Dates had been few and far between lately. He’d been too busy. Always busy. That’s what his sister Trinity said. Of course, she’d been trying to get him to take some time off work so that she could step into the company as a search-and-rescue team member, rather than as office help.
Wasn’t going to happen. Not in Jackson’s lifetime, anyway. He’d already lost his older sister. He had no intention of losing his younger one.
He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the small room Raina had escorted him to. Stella’s was across a narrow hall. She’d closed the door the minute she’d stepped inside it. Unless he missed his guess, she was already in bed.
His cell phone rang, but he ignored it. Chance was the only one who’d be calling at six in the morning, and Jackson wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the narrow twin bed. Not the most comfortable sleeping arrangement for a six-two, one-hundred-ninety-pound guy, but he’d slept on a lot worse.
The house settled around him, sunlight glimmering at the edges of the thick shade that covered the room’s lone window. A few creaks and groans of old wood joists and Raina’s house drifted into silence. He tried to let himself drift along with it, but he was wound up tight, thoughts of his run through the woods filling his head. He could picture the Jeep clearly, but he couldn’t change the fact that he hadn’t seen the driver.
He wanted another chance at it, but he had a feeling the cops were going to find the Jeep abandoned somewhere, the driver long gone. If they were fortunate, there’d be evidence to lead them to the perpetrator. If not, the guy who’d stalked Raina through the woods might return to continue whatever game he’d been playing.
Protective Instincts Page 5
