The Lawman’s Nanny Op

by Carla Cassidy

  “I’ve already got Benjamin checking the system for anyone who has a black pickup registered in their name in the area.” He took her by the arm. “In the meantime, I’ll take you home.”

  “What happened to my car?” she asked as he led her down the hallway to the exit.

  “I had it towed to Wally’s. He’ll keep it in the garage until we get samples of the paint chips off the bumper and it can be fixed.” He tightened his fingers around her elbow. “You could have been killed.”

  “That thought has crossed my mind more than once in the last half hour,” she said. Although she’d never really quite forgiven Caleb for breaking her heart years ago, she was grateful for the warmth of his hand on her, the nearness of his body as they stepped out of the building.

  She was beyond exhausted and had yet to really process what had happened. The idea that somebody had intentionally tried to kill her was as alien as the spaceships old Walt Tolliver, the town kook, insisted landed in Black Rock on a regular basis.

  Who could want to hurt her like that? What had she done to make somebody so angry with her? Question after question tumbled in her aching brain.

  Caleb led her to the passenger’s side of his patrol car and opened the door for her to ease inside. The minute he closed the door she was enveloped by the familiar scent of him, a scent that instantly reminded her of carnation corsages and hot kisses and a night of making love that she’d thought was the beginning of her future.

  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, weary beyond words as a headache banged in the center of her forehead.

  “You okay?” he asked as he got in and started the engine.

  She looked at him beneath half-closed eyelids. “Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped irritably. “My head aches, my body hurts and somebody tried to kill me.”

  Everything felt wildly out of control and she didn’t know how to cope, what to do to make herself regain some modicum of control.

  He pulled away from the curb and was silent. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said apologetically.

  He cast her one of his charming half smiles. “If anyone has a right to snap right now, I’d say it was you. You’ve had a rough night.”

  “It’s not just tonight. It’s a combination of the flyers and the break-in and now this. I just don’t understand what’s happening to my life right now.”

  “We’re going to figure it out,” he replied.

  She leaned her head back and once again closed her eyes, comforted by the ringing confidence in his voice. Despite any personal reservations she might have about him, she knew he was a good lawman. All the Graysons were good at what they did.

  Within minutes they were at her house and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thanks, Caleb, for everything,” she said as she opened the door and got out of the car. “You’ll stay in touch with me as far as how the investigation is going?”

  “Absolutely,” he agreed as he got out of the car. He hurried around to her side and grabbed her elbow to escort her to the front door.

  With each moment that passed, the aches in her body grew more pronounced and she felt as if her feet each weighed a hundred pounds.

  “How’s your head?” he asked as they reached the front door and she dug into her purse for her key. She was grateful that he’d thought to grab her purse from the car before it had been towed away by Wally.

  “I have a headache, but I’m not feeling dizzy or nauseated or anything like that.” She pushed the door open and turned back to him. “I’ll be fine now,” she said.

  “I know you’ll be fine. Because I have no intention of leaving you alone for the rest of the night.” He moved past her and into the house. “Come on, Portia, let me help you to bed.”

  Caleb saw the faint glint of fire that lit her eyes at his words and realized at that moment there was still something between them, something hot and crazy that the years hadn’t managed to douse.

  “That’s not necessary,” she protested, but it was a weak protest.

  “You heard the doctor. You aren’t supposed to be alone now. You don’t want to call your mother and I’m here, so that’s that.”

  She closed the door and locked it. “I have to admit, I was kind of dreading being alone tonight.” She walked over to the sofa and sank down on the cushions. “I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet. My head is still spinning with everything that’s happened.”

  She looked small and vulnerable and a surge of anger filled Caleb as he thought of the person responsible. He walked over and sat next to her, fighting the impulse to pull her into his arms and promise to spend the rest of his life keeping her safe.

  “I contacted Dale Stemple’s parents yesterday to see if they’d seen or heard from Dale since his release from prison. They insisted they haven’t had any contact with their son since he went to prison. I asked around town and nobody else has seen him. It’s possible Sam was mistaken.”

  “Which puts us back to square one—who can hate me enough to try to kill me?” She rubbed the center of her forehead and released a sigh that pierced through to his heart. “Maybe Sam wasn’t mistaken and Dale is here in town but just hiding really well.”

  “Maybe, but, Portia, we aren’t going to solve anything tonight. You’ve been through a pretty major trauma. What you need right now is rest.”

  She nodded and winced. “You’re right. I’m going to bed. The guest room is made up and you can help yourself to whatever.” She stood and sighed once again. “Hopefully this headache will be gone in the morning.”

  He stood, as well, wishing he had some words of comfort to offer her, some assurance that no more danger would come to her. But he refused to offer her false promises. “You can get into bed all right on your own?”

  She offered him a faint smile. “I’ve been doing it on my own for a long time,” she replied and then headed down the hallway.

  It was ridiculous how her words hinting that she’d always slept alone filled him with an unexpected pleasure. He knew she dated a lot, but apparently those dates hadn’t led to any real intimacy.

  Since Laura, Caleb had dated, as well, but he’d also avoided any intimacy with the women he casually dated. He didn’t want to get close, knew that lovemaking could evolve into heart involvement and he simply didn’t intend to ever go there again with any woman.

  At the moment his lack of a personal relationship in his life was the last thing on his mind. He needed to find out who was after Portia and why. And the disappearance of Brittany continued to haunt his mind.

  Knowing that nothing could be accomplished until morning, he checked the locks on the doors and windows, then headed down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

  The room was as inviting as her living room with a bright red spread across the bed and throw pillows in yellow and sky-blue.

  He grabbed a pillow from the bed, checked the hall closet and found a sheet and then went back into the living room. He’d bunk on the sofa and sleep with one eye open.

  Even though he didn’t really anticipate any more trouble for the rest of the night, he’d err on the side of caution.

  It took him only minutes to make up the sofa, then take off his jeans and T-shirt and slide in beneath the sheet.

  It was late and he was tired, but sleep refused to come as his head filled with thoughts of the woman in the next room. Were there secrets in her life she hadn’t told him about, secrets that might hold a clue to what was happening to her now?

  Black Rock was like any small town; the gossips loved to talk and everyone listened. He’d always assumed there were few secrets in Black Rock, but the truth was that nobody knew what went on behind closed doors or in somebody’s mind.

  He then realized that he’d always thought of Portia as his. She’d been his first love, his first lover and even though they’d only had a single night, prom night, together, it had indelibly written her name on his heart.

  Even though it had been years since they’d be
en a couple, even though he had no hope that they would ever be a couple again, he wouldn’t rest until the person who was tormenting her was behind bars.

  He must have fallen asleep for he awoke with a start and immediately checked his watch. Just after six. Despite the shortness of his sleep, he felt rested and ready to face a new day.

  He pulled on his jeans and then crept down the hallway to Portia’s bedroom. Her door was open and he peeked inside. She slept on her side facing him, her features soft and relaxed in slumber. Her hair was a spill of brown and copper against the pillow and the sheet had slipped down to expose the skimpy top of her emerald-green nightgown.

  She looked beautiful and there was nothing he wanted to do more than crawl in next to her and kiss her awake. He’d love to stroke her silky skin until she was gasping with pleasure, but that would be the biggest mistake he could make. Instead he turned and headed back to the bathroom where he washed up and then went into the kitchen to make some coffee.

  When the coffee had brewed he poured himself a cup and then stood at the window and frowned. The house backed up to a wooded area and there were trees on either side of the house, as well.

  It had been easy for somebody to break into the day care without being seen. Her neighbors were far enough away that nobody would have heard the noise. It would be relatively easy for somebody to break into the house without being seen or heard, as well.

  He needed to figure out what in the hell was going on, he thought as he sipped the coffee and watched the sun begin to peek over the horizon.

  He was on his third cup of coffee and had made several phone calls when he heard the sound of water running and realized Portia was awake and taking a shower.

  She was probably going to be sore, he thought as he checked the refrigerator and pulled out everything he needed to rustle up some bacon, eggs and toast.

  Although he was eager to get out and start checking trucks and asking questions, his first order of business was to make sure she was okay.

  The bacon had just finished frying when she made an appearance. “Over easy or broken yolks?” he asked. He tried not to notice how the lime-green T-shirt she wore clung to her breasts and transformed her hazel eyes to the color of lush grass. White shorts hugged her shapely behind and displayed her gorgeous long legs.

  “Caleb, what are you doing?” she asked from the doorway.

  “I’m making you breakfast. How are you feeling?”

  She left the doorway and walked over to the cabinet to get herself a coffee cup. “Actually, better than I thought I would. My body is a little sore but at least my headache is gone. And over easy would be terrific.”

  “Sit,” he commanded and pointed to the table. “This will be ready in just a few minutes.”

  She sat at the table. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  He crooked an eyebrow upward. “There’s probably a lot of things about me you don’t know. Just like there are probably a lot of things about you that I don’t know.”

  She wrapped her slender fingers around her cup and looked at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not just making small talk?”

  He broke the eggs into the skillet and pressed the bread down into the toaster. “What are your plans for the day?” he asked, intentionally changing the subject. He’d just needed to remind himself that they had no real connection, that they’d been two different people when they’d been young and crazy in love.

  “I’m thinking of doing something completely shallow and out of character and calling Layla to see if she wants to go shopping and have lunch.”

  “I think that sounds like just what the doctor ordered,” he said, glad that she didn’t intend to stay here all day alone.

  The toast popped up and he flipped the eggs onto the awaiting plates, then he set the plates on the table and joined her there.

  “What are your plans for the day?” she asked.

  “This morning I’m going to coordinate with Benjamin and we’re going to check out the black pickups in the area and look for front-end damage. This afternoon I plan on stopping in at Harley’s Bar to see if Harley has seen or heard from Dale. If I remember right, the two men were friends before Dale went to prison.”

  “Maybe Harley is behind this,” she said.

  Caleb thought of Harley Danvers, the owner of a raucous bar on the edge of town. The big bald man was mostly muscles and tattoos and wore his badass attitude on his broad, ex-boxer features.

  “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “Everyone knows that beneath Harley’s gruff exterior is a big heart. I can’t imagine him risking everything he’s built here in town to do something like this for a friend, but I’ll check it all out.”

  For a few moments they ate in silence. Caleb tried not to notice the play of the sun in her hair and the floral scent that emanated from her. He tried not to remember that single night of passion they’d shared so long ago.

  He needed to solve this thing and fast. The more time he spent with Portia the more she stirred something inside him that was definitely unwelcome.

  “After you eat I want you to make a list for me of anyone you’ve dated, anyone you’ve flirted with in the last year. I want to know anyone who was rude to you, anyone who made you feel uncomfortable even for a second.”

  “So you don’t think it’s Dale Stemple come back to get revenge on me?” she asked.

  “I think the worst thing we can do is have tunnel vision and just assume it’s Dale to the exclusion of anyone else.” He ate the last bit of his toast and then got up and carried his plate to the sink.

  “I don’t see why we need to go back a whole year. Surely whoever is angry with me, if it isn’t Dale Stemple, is mad about something that’s happened recently,” she replied.

  “Not necessarily.” He leaned with his back against the cabinet and gazed at her thoughtfully. “Emotions aren’t always that clean and clear. Sometimes things simmer just beneath the surface for months, for years, and then they explode.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment and he realized he didn’t know if he was talking about whoever was after Portia or his own unresolved feelings where she was concerned.

  He shook his head as if to dispel such thoughts. “And another thing, I think it would be best if you stayed away from the day-care kids.” Her eyes widened at his words. “Let’s face it, Portia. I don’t want any of the kids to become collateral damage and at the moment, it looks like somebody has targeted you.”

  Chapter 5

  “He was surprised when I wrote down all the names of the men I’d dated in the last year,” Portia said as she stabbed her fork into a piece of celery in her salad.

  “We all know you’re nothing but the town slut,” Layla said with a teasing grin. “Besides, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? Caleb hasn’t exactly been a recluse. He dates a lot, too. He was even engaged for a while, although he managed to screw that up.”

  Portia looked around the café for the tenth time since they’d come in for lunch, wondering if one of the men at the counter, if somebody at one of the tables, had been the person who had run her off the road the night before.

  She’d been targeted, that’s what Caleb had said. But why? And by whom?

  She returned her attention back to Layla and released a sigh. “It would be nice if all the dating I’ve done would have led to a Mr. Right, but I’m beginning to think there is no Mr. Right for me in this town.”

  “Tell me about it,” Layla said dryly. “The only difference between you and me is that I am the town slut and I still can’t find my Mr. Right.”

  Portia laughed and shook her head, as always half appalled and half delighted by Layla’s outrageous sense of humor. Layla wasn’t exactly promiscuous, but she’d definitely had more sexual experiences than Portia.

  “I thought maybe after lunch we’d check out that new dress shop that opened down by the hardware store. I’ve been meaning to go in for the last week but haven’t done it,” Layla said.
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  “Surely you need to get back to work,” Portia protested. “I don’t want to take up your entire day.”

  “Seriously, do you realize how bad the real-estate market is here in Black Rock? I’m just lucky that I had a good inheritance from my parents, otherwise I’d be starving.”

  “Or buying fewer clothes,” Portia said teasingly.

  “Trust me, I’d rather stop eating than stop shopping,” Layla replied with a grin.

  An hour later the two were in Bernie’s Boutique. Bernice Clinton, aka Bernie, was a plump housewife who had decided to open the store in an effort to bring better fashion to the small town. She had an eye for what was hot and trendy and her store carried not just clothing but also shoes and handbags.

  Layla was in heaven, sorting through the racks with a discerning eye and pulling out a half-dozen things to try on. Portia had no need for new clothes and was more than aware of the fact that until the children returned to the day care, her life would feel incomplete and no amount of shoes or purses could make it right.

  When Layla disappeared into the changing room Portia sat on a tufted bench and visited with Bernie, but her mind was on Caleb.

  Sometimes things simmer just beneath the surface for months, for years. His words played and replayed in her head. Had he been talking about the person who was after her or had he been talking about the two of them?

  What could have possibly simmered in him about her through the years? He’d promised to love her forever, yet when she’d gone out of town he’d cheated on her.

  Several of her friends hadn’t been able to wait to tell her that he’d spent the evening at the café with Jayme Cordell, a lovely blonde who’d been two years younger than Portia and Caleb. Those same friends had told her that at the end of the evening the two had left together.

  He’d proclaimed his innocence strongly and Portia had forgiven him. They’d resumed their relationship, but it had never been the same. She refused to make love with him again and he seemed okay with that, seemed to understand that she wanted to take things slowly.