Safe Haven

by Lisa Mondello

  “Is this the man you met with last night? The man who said he wanted you to kill me?”

  She held her breath as he continued to stare. It had to be someone different. Had to be. Anything else was unthinkable.

  “It’s different,” he said sharply as he tossed the photo in the box.

  Relief washed over her whole body, leaving her trembling and weak. She let out all her breath in one quick burst. “Then there has been a mistake.”

  “No, I’m afraid not. You ex-husband looks different in this picture than the ones we have on file. His hair is lighter now, and thinner. But I’m sure it is the same man I met with last night.”

  The relief Daria had felt just a few short seconds ago evaporated and left her cold.

  “George isn’t a killer. I know this man. He couldn’t hurt a fly. He’s not violent at all. During our entire marriage, he barely ever raised his voice. He wouldn’t do something so horrible like hire someone to kill me.”

  “Not all men with tempers will hurt the people they love. I ought to know. My stepfather could blow the roof off the house with his holler. But he never once raised a hand to any one of us. My mother included.” Kevin swallowed, hesitating. “Likewise, some men who appear to be gentle as kittens can be lethal.”

  Daria laughed harshly, shook her head. “George, lethal? I don’t think so.”

  Kevin sighed, ran his hand down his face, rubbing his shadowed jaw for a few seconds. “I know you want to believe that this isn’t happening to you. I wish it weren’t. It must seem like a nightmare,” he said delicately.

  He had no idea.

  “But the man who’d tried to hire me last night mentioned you by name. Our information was that George Carlisle was looking for a hit man. He said the words. I want you to kill my wife. That’s you.”

  Before she could protest, he put up a hand and added, “It doesn’t matter that you’re divorced and that you’re his ex-wife. Men like this don’t see legalities the way normal people do. He probably still thinks of you as his wife even though you’re divorced.”

  Daria shook her head and shrugged, jamming the lid on the faded calico-covered hatbox. “It has to be another George and Daria Carlisle.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes impatiently and stood. He was enormous standing next to her. She hadn’t noticed it before when they were at the market, or on the walk home. But with Kevin standing so close to her, towering over her like this, she knew just how formidable he was.

  It wasn’t just his size. He had angular, Nordic features that reminded her of the pictures she’d seen as a child of Vikings. Kevin Gordon didn’t have a steel shield bonded to his chest or a razor sharp sword strapped to his hip. But the image, the strength he exuded, was the same.

  How could anyone willing go up to this man on a dark street and contemplate something as heinous as murder? And how could any man be as warm and charming as Kevin had one moment and as dark and fearsome the next?

  Kevin continued. “There hasn’t been a mistake and the message was clear. And because of that, I’m afraid you are in grave danger.”

  She clamped her teeth over her bottom lip when it started trembling. “What are the police going to do?”

  He drew in a deep breath, making him appear taller than he was. His black cotton shirt stretched tight against his body, accentuating his well-defined muscles in his arms and chest. Daria wondered for a fleeting moment if he had a dusting of hair on his chest, dark blond curls that matched the hair on his head that he’d pulled back in a ponytail. It seemed insane that she’d even wonder such a thing at this point. But she did. She’d been thinking of a lot of things since they’d met eyes at the supermarket this morning.

  She’d seen him watching her. Her heart had pounded so hard in her chest that she couldn’t remember why she’d even gone to the market. And she’d been flattered. For the first time in a long time she’d noticed a man looking at her. She now realized she had it all wrong. Kevin’s interest in her was purely professional, unlike the lustful thoughts that had sprung to mind when she’d seen him.

  “Unfortunately, there isn’t anything the police can do right now.”

  She blinked. “I don’t understand. You said—”

  “I know. I know,” he said roughly, as if his frustration mirrored her own. “The department is limited in what it can do.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning exactly that. Something went wrong last night. But the easiest and best way to remedy the situation is for you to leave town.”

  Kevin sat back down at the table, brought the mug of coffee to his lips to take a sip and then set it on the table again. His grimace only magnified his fatigue, deepening the creases carved around his crystal blue eyes.

  She picked up his mug, brought it to the sink and dumped it out before pouring a fresh cup.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” he said, his head lifting in surprise.

  “You didn’t like it. I’ll make you another one.”

  She was being the ever-gracious hostess again, Daria realized. She’d tried hard to be that for George. She went through the motions for him, because it had been important to him that he be seen with the proper wife.

  “It’s okay,” Kevin said, “I usually load my coffee with sugar. I’m more inclined to get my caffeine from the soda machine than the coffee pot at the station because their coffee can be pretty nasty.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have any sugar,” she said quietly as she placed the fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I don’t have any soda either.”

  “Stop apologizing,” he ground out. Then he sighed and his voice softened. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know. I just don’t know what you expect of me. If the police can’t do anything, then why are you even here?”

  “I know I’m talking riddles and for that I apologize. It was a long night.”

  “You mentioned that.”

  “When I met with George last night, I was wired to record the conversation. It’s standard procedure in cases like this.”

  “You mean you’ve done this sort of thing before?”

  He nodded. “For various reasons. Unfortunately, I began to get static in my earpiece and was afraid I’d blow my cover. I unhooked it and proceeded with the meeting anyway. I didn’t want to take a chance that George would become suspicious if I didn’t show. There was no reason for me to believe my backup couldn’t hear what was going on. In fact, they had assured me there was no static on their end at all. I assumed my headset was faulty. I assumed wrong. George must have used a scrambler. The headset worked fine when we got it back to the station.”

  She placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of him. “A scrambler?”

  “At close proximity, it would kill the signal being recorded. It worked.”

  He took a sip of the fresh cup of coffee and Daria was surprised that this time he didn’t grimace with the taste. She knew her coffee was strong. Kevin said he liked his sweet. He was being the ever-gracious guest.

  She closed her eyes, unable to stand the pretense in either one of them.

  “We needed solid evidence to hand the DA before we could make an arrest.”

  “He told you he wanted you to…you know. Isn’t that enough? Couldn’t you have arrested him with just that?”

  “It’s my word against his. It won’t hold up in court. If we’d had the recording, that would be enough. But we don’t. And I didn’t realize this because I’d unhooked my headset. I knew something was up when my team didn’t move in to apprehend your husband when all the details of his plan were revealed.”

  “Ex-husband,” they both said in unison.

  “He called you his wife,” Kevin said delicately. “He clearly sees it that way. That’s why I…he won’t stop.â€�
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  She simply nodded.

  “When my backup didn’t show, I knew something was wrong. But he’d spilled enough in just the few short minutes that I knew we had enough. I wasn’t about to let him get away, so I moved in to arrest him.”

  Daria held up her hand. “Wait a minute. I thought you said you didn’t arrest him.”

  There was nothing carefree about his movement when Kevin shrugged. “I made the arrest but it didn’t stick. He’s no longer in custody. The DA won’t prosecute unless we have something ironclad. We had no choice but to let him go. As soon as he hit the street, I came over here to warn you.”

  She fiddled with a paper napkin, wiping a dried ring on the table. “But he told you. You heard him say those words? That he wanted to…kill me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the fact that he met you in the middle of the night? Doesn’t that count for something? Doesn’t that at least prove some guilt?”

  “His doorman backed up his statement that George goes for a walk nearly every evening. He left at roughly the same time he usually does when he takes his walk. He even got concerned when George didn’t return as usual. George was at the station at that point.”

  “He suffers from insomnia,” Daria said, staring into the coffee she’d poured for herself, but hadn’t drank. The wrinkled napkin lie beside her cup wound as tight as a toothpick. “Taking a walk helps him sleep.”

  “That’s what he said. Simply taking a walk in the middle of the night is not a crime. It doesn’t prove anything.”

  Daria sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

  “Well, thank you for stopping by, Detective,” she said. “I appreciate the warning. If you hear anything else, please be sure to let me know.”

  Kevin stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. And maybe she had. She couldn’t think clearly.

  “Mrs. Carlisle—”

  Her fists balled in her lap. “Please don’t call me that anymore. My name is Daria. You and your friends have been watching me for weeks, following me to the market. I’ve invited you into my home under terms of friendship, not official police business. I think it would be considered proper etiquette at this point for us to be on a first name basis. Don’t you think?”

  Uncurling her fingers, she planted her palms on the table, pushing herself out of her chair. She grabbed her full coffee mug and dumped the contents into her sink along with the mug, watching the liquid slosh up the sides and splash the faucet with the force of her movement. Her eyes stung with hot tears she fought to hold back.

  Standing at the sink, she stared out her kitchen window to her backyard that was bursting green with the coming of spring. For some reason it looked beautiful this morning. Nothing was in bloom yet, but it had all the makings of something wonderful. She’d envisioned it many times, plotted beds on scratch paper and built them with her own two hands, planting what she found comfortable, carefree, and beautiful. She’d imaged a thousand times what it would look like when her work was done and Mother Nature had a chance to do her magic in the warm weather.

  The day had started out so glorious. The sun was still shining as bright as it had when she’d walked the few blocks to Rainoni’s Market where she’d met a man who had instantly stolen her breath away with one penetrating glance. Impulsively, she’d invited him home for coffee. They’d casually talked the whole few blocks back to her house as he, like a gentleman, clutched her groceries. She suddenly realized with dismay that she’d been the one doing all the chattering.

  Kevin’s deep voice floated to her and broke into her thoughts. “The police may not be able to do anything for you, but you can. That’s why I’m here, Daria.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You can leave here. The sooner the better. Go far away and set up in another town someplace. Change your name even. Make it so it seems as if Daria Carlisle really is dead. Or at the very least, fallen off the face of the earth. If you stay here, you aren’t safe.”

  She spun around to look him in the face. There was no teasing there, no slight twitch of his lips to indicate Kevin was about to burst into laughter as he told her the punch line of his joke. There was no punch line, she realized. He was actually serious. Deadly serious. This is what he meant by doing the job right?

  Daria’s laugh came out in a short burst that hinted of hysteria. “No. No, no, no. I’m not going anywhere. You see, I just bought this house. I’m going to be spending the next week stripping layers and layers of cruddy wallpaper from my bathroom so I can see just how awful the walls are in there and decide whether or not I have enough money to re-tile or just spackle, paint, and stencil. The only relocating I want to be doing is moving junk from this house. And I’m not included in that.”

  “You don’t understand.” He remained calm as he spoke and that made it all the worse.

  She charged toward the table. “Oh, yes, I do. I understand that you are telling me you want me to just up and leave my house, the home I’ve spent the last six months pulling apart to make livable again. Do you have any idea what this house looked like when I moved in?”

  He started to speak, but she halted him by raising both hands in the air, palms facing him.

  “I’ll tell you. It was awful. Truly hideous. I had a small fridge and microwave in my bedroom up until a month ago. I had to be careful where I stepped for fear the stairs would break and there are still places where I have to be careful when I’m upstairs. I had to buy a membership to the gym just so I could shower there until I’d saved enough money to pay for new plumbing, which let me tell you cost a pretty penny in an old place like this.”

  She stalked to the back door and swung it open, letting in a rush of spring breeze that blew her hair into her eyes. She swiped the errant strands away with a quick brush of her hand.

  “Do you see that tree out there?”

  Kevin leaned forward in the chair to peer out in the direction she was pointing.

  “All I see is the little one being held up by a stake.”

  She huffed. “It’s a Hummingbird Vine. I planted one of these with my mother when I was ten years old when we lived in Georgia. We’d only stayed there for about six months. I remember I was so excited about watching something that I planted grow and bloom.”

  She also recalled her mother’s comforting pat on the back when Daria asked if they’d be there in the spring to see it bloom and the disappointment she’d felt when her mother said no, that they were planting the tree for someone else to enjoy.

  “They have these delicate little flowers that are bright orange and beautiful and the hummingbirds love them. I love watching them flit from flower to flower as if they don’t even know I’m there. This summer it’s going to be covered in blooms and hopefully my back yard will be filled with the delightful little hummingbirds. Do you know how I know this?”

  Kevin shook his head and remained silent.

  Daria took a deep breath, afraid her voice would crack if she spoke too soon. “The man at the garden story told me. I’ve seen Hummingbird Vines. They’re beautiful. But I’ve never seen the same bush shed it leaves and then bloom the next summer. I’ve never lived anywhere long enough to see more than two or three seasons change.”

  She swung the door shut and stared at him.

  “I planted over three hundred dollars’ worth of bulbs a few months ago when I moved in. Even when the rest of the house was still too decrepit to live in, when I couldn’t stand to nail one more board inside I still came out into the yard and dug in the dirt because I couldn’t wait to see my garden this summer. I knew without a doubt that this time I’d be around to see it bloom.”

  “I know you’re upset.”

  “You’re damned right I’m upset. I’ve spent my entire life living out of boxes, never unpacking because there wasn’t any point. We never stayed any place long enough for it to matter. This was it. This house. The end of the line for me.” She laug
hed then and felt the tears spring to life in her eyes. “I’m not leaving.”

  Kevin advanced toward her. “Just hear me out.”

  “I’ve been listening. Now you listen. I’m not going anywhere, Detective Gordon.”

  Chapter Three

  Kevin paused for a moment before speaking. He wasn’t getting through to Daria. He knew she’d be upset. How could she not be? He reasoned on the drive over that it wasn’t his responsibility. Jake and Dylan had said as much before he’d left the station. You aren’t the one trying to kill her, they had said.

  But it didn’t matter. If things had gone right last night, they’d be having a different conversation this morning. He should have never taking the earpiece off. If he hadn’t, he’d have known the wire was somehow compromised. He would have played out last night different by not arresting George on his own. He would have let him just walk away. It would have killed Kevin to let the man go after what he’d heard him say about his ex-wife. But he’d have done it because then he wouldn’t have blown his cover and George wouldn’t know the police knew his intentions to hire someone to kill his ex-wife. He could have played along, waited until money had changed hands and then arrested him. Nothing George Carlisle did after that would keep him a free man.

  Kevin had screwed up bad. And he’d be damned if he was going to walk away from it without his conscious bothering him. He’d make it right. And no matter how much Captain Jorgensen or the rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise, Kevin knew it.

  He’d been thinking of Lucy last night. He didn’t know why. It had been nearly twenty years since his sister’s best friend was murdered. He hadn’t thought of Lucy or what happened to her that day in a very long time. But he had last night and somehow he had to feel that had compromised his reason, distracted him enough that he’d screwed up. It wasn’t going to happen again.

  He had to make Daria understand how much danger she was really in so she would leave.