Donnell Ann Bell

by Donnell Ann Bell

“And that makes me feel better how?”

  The temperature was dropping, they’d just had a lengthy conversation about taking precautions, and Joe expected Melanie at any minute to walk toward her house. She didn’t.

  “Is your daughter a chatterbox?” Mel asked.

  His gaze fell over the quiet street once again. “I’d say Trish is more introspective. Didn’t you promise me coffee?”

  Melanie tilted her head. “Why don’t we walk instead?”

  “Mel...”

  “Maxwell will win only if I let him, isn’t that what you said?”

  Reluctantly, Joe nodded.

  She pointed to something beyond his shoulder. “And that neighborhood watch sign on that light pole, did you have anything to do with it?”

  He held back a sigh. “You know I did.”

  “Thought so. You made a lot of sense tonight. I’ll put my things into storage, I’ll buy an alarm, but as of tonight, I’m through being afraid of my own shadow. I want to walk in my own neighborhood.”

  “Would you go without me?”

  “No. But if we don’t go, you can forget about coffee.”

  “That’s blackmail, Mrs. Norris.” He buttoned the top button of her pea coat.

  “That’s reality, Lt. Crandall. I’m tired of being scared.”

  “Can’t say that I blame you. Let’s go.”

  She grinned. “Let me lock my purse in the house.”

  Seconds later, Joe tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm and shoved his free hand in his jacket pocket. He’d only relented because of the Glock in his shoulder holster. He also suspected this outing was an experiment. Night after night during her time in the pen, Melanie had drifted off to sleep, undoubtedly, terrified. She’d obviously found a way to survive the ordeal.

  As they made their way up the block, Joe found himself de-stressing, too. A few of the residents had gotten into the holiday spirit. White and multi-colored Christmas lights twinkled from dormant trees and rooftops, but for the most part, the neighborhood was cloaked in black.

  They talked about Mel’s promotion, what it would entail. She asked about his day. He told her about the robberies, about the grueling joint agency sessions that afternoon, and naturally the playback reminded him of his phone call with Simon.

  “Mind if I ask you something?” he said.

  Casting him a sideways glance, she closed one eye, leaving the other open. “Could I stop you?”

  “Are you considering the warden’s proposal?”

  “How could you possibly know about that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Today while we were insulting each other, he mentioned it. Kind of ruined my whole day, ya know?”

  Melanie smiled and bit her lower lip. “It did?”

  “You don’t have to look so happy about it.”

  “Do you remember last week when I asked you if you were getting back with your ex-wife?”

  Keeping his eyes peeled, he nodded.

  “And you said you don’t kiss a woman when you’re thinking of someone else?”

  He nodded again.

  “The same applies to me. I don’t take late night strolls with a man with incredible eyes, if I’m planning to marry somebody else.”

  “You like my eyes?”

  She laughed. “I have since the... well, since the second time I met you. No, Joe, I have no intention of marrying Simon.”

  Joe had known this on some level, but with Melanie facing a potential life and death threat, he wouldn’t have liked it, but he wouldn’t have blamed her either. Still, the fact she so adamantly rejected the idea pleased him so much, perhaps that’s why he said to hell with scoping out the area, and pulled her into his arms. Sliding his hands through her soft auburn hair, he kissed her. She clutched the lapels of his jacket, he held her even tighter. Outside it was cold, inside he was a furnace.

  Ending their kiss, he touched his forehead to hers. And when they drew apart, her eyes shone as bright as any of the luminaries decorating the nearby houses.

  “How can I blame Simon for caring about you when I feel the same way?” Joe said as they continued walking.

  She snuggled closer. “Thanks, Joe.”

  They’d reached Lakewood Elementary School, when he said, “We still have a little time. We could go back to my place.”

  She surprised him with, “I think I’d like that.”

  Feeling younger than he had in some time, Joe wrapped an arm around her and they headed home.

  They rounded the corner where the first car he’d seen all evening made its way down Serendipity. Its headlights hit one of the few vehicles parked alongside the street, and that’s when Joe saw the lone figure slide low in the driver’s seat.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  His first impulse was to get her inside as quickly as possible, but a different alternative came to mind. Now came the time to see what she was made of. “Mel?”

  “Hmm?”

  “See the Taurus parked perpendicular to your house? Do you know who owns it?”

  “I’ve seen it around. Why?”

  “There’s someone inside. It’s set away from the street lights, and I can’t make out the plates.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “We’re going to keep walking. Like we haven’t seen him, all right? I don’t want to spook him and have him take off.”

  She nodded, but he didn’t miss her shudder. “Is it Maxwell?”

  “We’re gonna find out. You all right?”

  Her head bobbed once.

  At the path to her doorway, they stopped. “I need you to go inside, lock the doors and dial 911. Give them your name and address, tell Dispatch you’re with me and I said, ’possible intruder.’ I want lights, no sirens issued to your address. Got it?”

  “Possible intruder. Lights, no sirens,” she repeated.

  “Good girl.” Keeping the dark-colored Taurus in his peripheral vision, Joe kissed her cheek. “Casual now. Go.”

  Melanie moved slowly up the walk. At the front porch she turned and waved. A good actress, Joe thought. She let herself into her house. He pivoted, not daring to look at the Taurus on his way home. Inside his entry, he flipped on lights, shucked off his jacket and raced to the kitchen back door.

  With the vehicle out of sight, worry stabbed at his chest. Drawing his Glock, Joe eased out the rear entrance, then scrunched low between their two houses.

  It had to be Maxwell.

  Relief shot through him when he saw the Taurus was still in position. Glancing at his watch, Joe forced himself to wait. If he sprinted from his location, he might be able to surprise the bastard behind the wheel, but it’d be more prudent to have assistance. Joe estimated the distance from where he stood to the Taurus to be about two hundred yards.

  Two hundred yards to ending Melanie’s nightmare.

  So where the hell was his back up?

  Joe’s relief was short-lived. The Taurus’s engine turned over. His only hope was that Maxwell had switched on the engine to keep warm.

  Fifteen seconds. Joe would give patrol that much time.

  No such luck. The vehicle’s headlights switched on, the car’s interior panel illuminated, and with the occupant cast in the shadows, the Taurus swung from the curb.

  Joe muttered, “Shit,” and broke out running. His footsteps were loud in contrast to the quiet night, and alerted every dog in the neighborhood. Stopping in the middle of the street, he planted his legs apart, raised his weapon and shouted, “Stop. Police!”

  The driver accelerated.

  Heart hammering, Joe dropped and rolled, narrowly missing being taken out by the Taurus’s bumper.

  That’s when the squad car showed up, barreling down the street. Joe sprang to
his feet, and in wide circular motions, directed the officer to follow the fleeing vehicle.

  Porch lights switched on and neighbors ran out of their houses, and into the street, among them Melanie. Hands on his knees, Joe bent to catch his breath.

  “Oh, my God, what happened?” one of the neighbors shouted.

  Wrapping an arm around Melanie, Joe informed the gathering crowd, “We had a prowler, folks. An officer’s in pursuit. We’ll get him.”

  “If it’ll happen in this neighborhood, it’ll happen anywhere,” Mrs. Kearney, his elderly neighbor said in her unmistakable Texas drawl. “I mean, a cop lives over yonder.”

  “It’s over, folks,” Joe replied. “But I’d appreciate everyone keeping a lookout. If you see anything unusual, you have my number, or if you can’t reach me, call the police.”

  Mel raised a hand to his brow. “Joe, you’re bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. C’mon, let’s get you taken care of.”

  A few minutes later, Joe held a towel to his head while sitting on his bed and listening to Dispatch on his handheld radio to determine whether they’d caught the suspect. Brooks Morris was the cop in pursuit, a longtime police officer and proficient in doing his job. Finally, with complete explanations getting lost among operators, codes and signals, Joe tossed the radio, reached for the phone and called Morris’s cell phone.

  “You lost him? You weren’t thirty seconds behind him.”

  “That’s correct, sir,” Brooks said. “But traffic was heavy. I had to take safety into consideration before engaging in a high-speed pursuit.”

  “Did you get plates?”

  “Yes, sir. Missouri. We’re running them now.”

  Missouri? “Anything else? Broken taillight, dents, bumper stickers?”

  “Negative, Lieutenant. Your average run-of-the-mill dark blue to black Ford Taurus with Missouri plates.” Brooks hesitated. “I did form one impression though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Our boy could drive. He knew how to negotiate traffic, like he’d had training.”

  A migraine was forming behind Joe’s eyes. Could’ve been the bump he’d sustained, still, he recognized stress when he felt it. Drake Maxwell had robbed convenience stores. He wasn’t afraid to apply the gas when he had to. “What are you saying, Brooks?”

  “Just that, sir. He drove like a pro or maybe a cop.”

  A cop. Well, that put a different slant on things. After their conversation today, could the warden have hired someone to protect Mel? No. As much as the two were at odds, Simon would have alerted Joe. He’d check with the prison head, but Joe suspected it would be a wasted phone call. “Thanks, Brooks. I appreciate the backup tonight.”

  “Sorry I let you down, sir.”

  “You didn’t. If anything, the driver knows he’s under surveillance.”

  Joe hung up, then notified Dispatch to have a unit patrol his neighborhood. He withdrew the towel from his head, finding it soaked with blood. Damned head injuries, they were the worst. They could be nothing, but it took forever to staunch the flow.

  Mel rummaged through Joe’s bathroom, the one downstairs, then reluctantly searched Matt’s bath upstairs. Joe’s son was a typical teen. Nearly tripping over his basketball shoes, she could barely find the floor. The bathroom obviously doubled as Matt’s hamper. Soap scum caked the sink, while miscellaneous toiletries lay beside it. She had no trouble locating the hydrogen peroxide and bandages. They were the only two items inside the medicine chest.

  She left the bathroom, encountering as she went, more family pictures in the hallway. Focusing on the striking brunette and an equally pretty little girl, Mel saw firsthand that Trish was the image of her mother. Matt wore his typical grin, Joe his charismatic smile. What Mel couldn’t take her gaze off was Joe’s ex-wife’s hand resting possessively on his shoulder.

  In a few days Karen Crandall would arrive. Matt wanted them to be a family again.

  He’s a walk away, Melanie.

  She squared her shoulders, banishing once again Simon’s constantly intruding words. Joe had risked his life to protect hers. She entered the master bedroom as he flipped off his cell.

  “Did they get him?”

  “Not yet, Mel. We will.”

  She sat beside him on the bed and tried to pry the blood-soaked towel from his head. When he shook off her offer to help, she spoke to him as she would a child. “I need to see how bad it is. Don’t be a baby. Let’s go into the bathroom before you bleed on everything.”

  “This wasn’t the way I envisioned getting you into my bedroom,” he said grimacing.

  In spite of his surly behavior, she couldn’t resist. She met his lips. In that moment, the big bad Joe Crandall looked like a five year old, missing his teddy bear. But in the next second the look he returned was far from childlike.

  Inhaling the scent of sandalwood, Mel followed him through the bathroom door. With no thought to her presence, he stripped off his shirt, sat on the toilet lid, reapplied the towel and waited for her help.

  She’d patched up Carl numerous times, yet he’d never affected her like this. Even injured, Joe was miles ahead of ordinary. Admiring his tanned, bare-chested physique, a lump formed in her throat as she stood rooted to the floor.

  He shot her a frown. “I need to get to the office. Could you hurry it up, please?”

  Chagrined, Mel snapped out of her trance. A fleeing suspect obviously took precedence over his sex drive. She ran her hands under water, draped a clean towel around his neck, then stepped between his thighs. Lifting the formerly white towel from his hairline, she discovered an angry wet gap welled with blood.

  Annoyed that her own libido wasn’t worried about the APB, she tossed the now crimson towel into the sink and inspected what looked like a one-inch gash. There was nothing sexy about a man bleeding in his bathroom, but she’d never been so close to such raw masculinity before. Just for a moment she fantasized about the bed in the outer room and ran a curious finger over Joe’s glistening skin. Then ordering restraint, she quashed her untimely thoughts, and pushed his hair away from the injury.

  He stiffened and she yanked her hand back. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  “God, no.” Holding the clean towel to his head, his breathing grew ragged.

  She made an effort to see where his preoccupation lay, and when she did, her face grew hot. She’d been cruising the same lustful road as he, but as her breasts tightened under his inspection, she lashed out, “I’m up here, Joe.”

  He pulled his lecherous gaze away from her chest and his mouth formed a smile. “I know. But you should see the view from down here.”

  That’s all it took to jerk her back to reality. She twisted the cap, covered his eyes and in a voice that belied her sincerity, said, “Brace yourself. This is going to sting.”

  “Just get it over with.”

  She poured the antiseptic, his smug smile disappeared and he clenched his teeth.

  But as the blood continued to gush, her revenge was short-lived. “I gotta tell you, it’s quite a gash. You may need stitches.”

  “No time. Do the best that you can.”

  His issuance of orders like she was one of his staff didn’t set well, but then on top of the peroxide, the injury probably hurt like hell.

  Glancing at her watch, she said, “The boys will be home any minute.”

  “Good. That way you can tell Luke to pack a bag. You’re staying here tonight.”

  His concern redeemed him somewhat, but she still had a parental obligation. “What? And how am I supposed to explain that to Luke?”

  “Simple. We had a prowler. I have an alarm system. Luke can sleep with Matt in his room. You’ll take the guest room―break in my new furniture.”

 
; She applied a new towel to the wound. “I don’t know, Joe.”

  “I’m going downtown, and I can’t be worried about your safety―”

  The house alarm beeped once, signaling that Matt had come home.

  She went ramrod straight. “Luke. He’ll go home to an empty house. He’ll be worried.” Quickly, she draped three layers of gauze, then placed a bandage over Joe’s bleeding scalp.

  “Dad, where are you?”

  “Up here,” Joe shouted.

  “Do you know where Mrs. Norris is? Her car’s out front and―”

  Mel glanced up to find both boys in the doorway, looking in on what could only be construed as a provocative situation. As she met Luke’s gaze, his entire body tensed and his face flushed with anger. “Mom?”

  Matt’s open-mouthed look of horror mirrored his friend’s displeasure. “What’s going on?”

  Indicating the newly applied bandage, Mel said, “Your dad tried to stop a prowler. The guy nearly ran over him.”

  “Are you okay?” Matt’s voiced rose in panic.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for the assistance.” Joe’s manner was nonchalant as he eased back against the commode tank and Melanie returned to the sink.

  But Luke was having none of their explanation. He glared between the two. “Yeah, right.” Turning, he stormed away.

  Mel’s heart vaulted to her throat as she rushed after him. “Luke, just a minute.”

  He’d already made it down the stairs.

  “Luke Norris! Stop right now!”

  In Joe’s entryway, the teen rounded on her. “I’m going home.”

  “You can’t.”

  “What?”

  “Lt. Crandall wants us to stay here tonight.”

  Luke glowered at her. “I don’t give a rip what he―”

  “Luke!” Seeking an explanation that would make sense, she said, “The intruder was scoping our house. The Crandalls have an alarm. First thing tomorrow, I’ll have one installed.”

  The boy tightened his hands into fists. “I don’t need an alarm, I have a baseball bat.” Luke glanced toward the top of the stairs. “Are you coming or staying with him?”

  Mel blinked at the hostility she heard in Luke’s voice. “Sweetheart, nothing was going on. Besides, I thought you liked Lt. Crandall.”