Shattered Haven

by Carol J. Post

  Finally, Allison touched the screen and dropped her phone into her purse. “I got a name, date of birth, description, you name it. But it doesn’t sound like he’s our guy.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The height and build doesn’t fit the guy who came into my room. He was muscular but not huge. According to Sandra, her boyfriend was built like a linebacker for the Tampa Bay Bucs.”

  “Maybe he’s lost weight, slimmed down over the years. They probably weren’t feeding him in prison like he was accustomed to.”

  She stepped from the cart and headed around back, bypassing the front porch. It looked like it had the night of the fire, with the addition of yellow caution tape. According to Allison, the insurance adjuster had been out, and she had contacted a couple of contractors for estimates.

  He followed her into the kitchen and locked the door behind him. “So what else did you learn?”

  “His name’s Edward Stevens, birth date September 27. If her math is correct, he was born in 1968, but it wouldn’t hurt to go a year or two to either side.”

  “Anything else?”

  “About five-ten, dark hair, dark eyes. Some pretty impressive tattoos—an eagle in flight spanning his chest, a busty woman wrapped in an American flag on his right arm, and several others.” She pulled some hamburger from the freezer and prepared to defrost it. “Of course, the guy who came into my room was wearing long sleeves, so I wouldn’t have seen any tattoos.”

  “What did she say he was in for?”

  “Drug charges and second-degree murder.”

  “Did she say what kind of sentence he got?”

  “She didn’t know. He drained her bank accounts and took off a week before he got arrested. Then he sent her a letter, trying to act all lovey-dovey. She wrote him back and told him she hoped he rotted in prison.”

  “Smart girl. Does she know of anything he might have hidden?”

  “No, she doesn’t, but she said it wouldn’t surprise her.”

  He pulled out his phone and started to scroll through his contacts.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “My former supervisor back in Dallas. I’m going to see what he can find out.” He owed him a phone call anyway. Doug called regularly to check on him and, during the months following his injury, showed the most concern of anyone, next to his family. His friends started out that way, but their phone calls got fewer and further between. His partner, of course, avoided him like the plague.

  Allison nodded. “Good idea. We’ll put Cedar Key on it, too.”

  When Doug answered, his voice held an undertone of pleased surprise. Usually he was the one who initiated the calls instead of the other way around.

  “So how’s Cedar Key treating you?”

  “I can’t complain. I spend my days fishing, working out in the gym, hanging around town and visiting with the folks here. I’ve gotten a part-time job at a grocery store to help keep me out of trouble.”

  “Well, you sound good, my man. It must be agreeing with you.”

  “It is. Friendly people, clean salt air, laid-back way of life. You can’t beat it.” He glanced at Allison, who stood at the stove, her back to him, browning hamburger for spaghetti sauce. “I even went to church this morning.”

  “Whoa, Cedar Key is turning your life upside down. I’m happy for you.”

  “I need a favor, though. I need to find out everything I can about a guy named Edward Stevens. There’s a lady here who’s being stalked, and we think he might have something to do with it.”

  Doug’s easy laughter flowed through the phone. “I should have known there’d be a woman behind your sudden cheeriness.”

  Though the comment begged an answer, he let it pass. Doug would love to know where things with Allison were headed. But he couldn’t fill in his former supervisor until he figured it out himself.

  “I’ve got stats, if you’re ready to take them down.”

  When Doug indicated he was, Blake gave him what Allison had relayed.

  “I’ll get right on it and let you know what I learn.”

  “Thanks. So how is everyone back at the department?”

  “Good. Dawson’s wife finally talked him into retiring, Stanger’s engaged and Peterson’s wife just had twins.” He paused, and when he finally resumed speaking, a bit of the joviality had left his voice. “Felicia and Rick are no longer together. She left him for some guy who plays guitar in an amateur rock band. They’re currently off on a rock climbing expedition.”

  Blake stood gripping the phone, waiting for that sense of triumph to sweep over him, or at the least, satisfaction that although he no longer had her, Rick didn’t, either. Instead, he felt nothing at all.

  He turned to watch Allison remove a jar of spaghetti sauce and a can of mushrooms from the pantry, then make her way back to the counter. She was still dressed from church, her golden hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Her dress reached a point just below her knees, some lightweight fabric that fluttered as she moved. She was strong and independent, but sweet and feminine at the same time.

  And he silently thanked God that Felicia had left him and he had grown so dissatisfied with his life. And he thanked Him for all the events that brought him to Cedar Key, even his accident. Because if it hadn’t been for that, he would still be searching for meaning, chasing the next thrill.

  “Are you okay?” Doug’s words reminded him of the long span of silence that had passed. “I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” He cast another glance at Allison. “Better than fine. I’m sorry for Rick. And I hope Felicia finds what she’s looking for.”

  After disconnecting the call, he crossed the kitchen to where Allison was dropping pasta into boiling water. He stood for several moments, then stepped forward to wrap his arms around her waist and plant a kiss on the side of her neck.

  She laid down the wooden spoon she was holding and swiveled her head to bring him into her peripheral vision. “What was that all about?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  She turned until she fully faced him and wrapped both arms around his neck.

  “I should be thanking you. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Yes, you have. You’ve made me feel welcome right from the start. You’ve taken me under your wing and incorporated me into Cedar Key life. And you’ve led me to the peace and contentment that I came here to find.”

  He couldn’t tell her about the rush of emotion he had felt watching her cooking for him. Or how his heart picked up every time he looked at her. Or how the softness in her gaze at that moment was spurring thoughts of forever.

  At least not yet. They had a lot of exploring to do. And he had his own tangled thoughts to deal with.

  Before his injury, he had played as hard as he worked. He and his friends did all kinds of extreme sports— skiing, rock climbing, bungee jumping. The more exciting, the better. And Felicia had been right in there with them.

  After his injury, his friends tried to keep in touch, but he was deadweight. With a knee made of metal alloys and a leg riddled with bullets, he was relegated to sitting on the couch. And his friends weren’t the card-playing, movie-watching type. Neither was Felicia. If they had stayed together, she would have resented him for holding her back.

  Of course, Allison was in the same great shape. If he made this thing with her permanent, would she eventually feel the same as Felicia? Would she one day think of him as deadweight? A noose around her neck?

  His arms tightened around her slender body, and she responded by pressing her face against the side of his neck and holding him even more tightly.

  No, she wouldn’t eventually feel the same as Felicia. She knew everything about him—his disa
bilities, his hidden insecurities, even the ugly details of what happened that night. And she still accepted him. And cared for him. Maybe even loved him.

  No, Allison wasn’t Felicia.

  Not by any stretch of the imagination.

  ELEVEN

  Allison stood in the darkened kitchenette, downing a glass of water. She wasn’t really thirsty. More like restless. Something had awoken her, and she couldn’t even say what.

  She put the glass in the sink and leaned back against the counter. Soft gray light seeped in through the large windows, not quite reaching the corners of the suite. Silence draped everything, inside and out.

  She pushed herself away from the counter and crossed the room, her nightgown swishing softly around her legs. The bedside clock said 3:17 a.m. Its red numerals glowed eerily in the darkness. Uneasiness crawled along her skin.

  What was wrong with her? The first three nights she had slept like a log, even without Brinks next to her. Since pets couldn’t stay at Harbour Master Suites, Darci was acting as surrogate parent for the time being.

  But even without Brinks, she still felt secure. Blake was in the next room. A couple of raps on the wall would have him at her door in ten seconds flat. Besides, there were only two ways in, three counting the interconnecting door. No one would be likely to break in the front; there was too much of a chance of being seen. To come in the side, he would have to get past Blake.

  And the back wasn’t an option. A good portion of the Harbour Master Suites was built over the water, resting on pilings rising out of the Gulf. Her balcony was a good twelve feet up. No one was coming in that way unless he could fly.

  She moved to the table and sank into one of the chairs, breathing in the tranquility of the room. She was pleased with the accommodations they had chosen. Airy and open and decorated in soft blues and whites, the suite offered the soothing atmosphere she needed. Outside the large windows was an unbroken view of the Gulf. Currently, clouds obscured all but the brightest stars, and far below, silver-tipped ripples danced in the moonlight. The moon wasn’t visible from inside the room, but she had seen it earlier, a gleaming crescent suspended against a blanket of black velvet.

  Her gaze slid farther right, and she drew her brows together. All the way around the balcony was wooden railing painted a cheery blue, each four-by-four post topped with a painted wooden finial. But something was wrong. Midway between two finials where there should have been smooth, flat rail was an object, slim and curved. It wasn’t there earlier. Each evening, she and Blake sat out there talking, watching the sky deepen from navy to black.

  She rose from the chair, planning to click on the balcony light. Before she could turn, movement caught her eye, a shadowed form rising behind the pickets. She stood frozen in place as one gloved hand, then another, clasped the top of the railing. Finally, a head appeared, wearing the now-familiar knit ski mask. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she gasped and stumbled backward.

  The next moment, the head dipped below the railing, and both hands disappeared. He had seen her. And he was getting away.

  She hurried to the door, flipped the light switch and stepped onto the L-shaped balcony that wrapped the room. A low sputter reached her, an outboard on idle. She rounded the corner and ran that direction. Occupying the same spot on the railing was the object she had seen earlier—a grappling hook. The sense of security she had enjoyed for the past three days shattered into a thousand pieces.

  The sputter became a roar, and a boat shot into the night, a single occupant at its wheel. She leaned forward, straining to see something identifiable. But with the darkness of the night and the balcony light behind her, it was hopeless.

  She came back inside and rapped on the connecting door. Moments later, it swung open, and anxious eyes swept her up and down. She rushed to assure him.

  “I’m all right. But I think you need to look at this.”

  She led him out the door and down the length of the balcony, then leaned over the rail. A rope dangled from the eye of the grappling hook, its other end submerged, slipping back and forth with the movement of the sea. Something else floated nearby, a tangled mass of rope and wood.

  She pointed at the object. “What is that?”

  Blake frowned, deepening the vertical lines between his brows. “I believe it’s a rope ladder.”

  “He must have dropped it on his hurried trip back down.”

  He stepped away from the rail. “We need to call the police. If they can retrieve that ladder, maybe they can find out where it was purchased. That could lead us to the perp.”

  It was worth a shot. Everything else they’d tried had failed. And it wasn’t for lack of effort. Everyone was on high alert. Everywhere she went, someone had her back, watching from afar, hoping to see something suspicious. Hunter was doing triple time, keeping up his schedule with Cedar Key PD and following her charters every chance he got. And several other boat owners had pitched in. Even Terrance had taken a turn and made a trip out on the water when neither Hunter nor Blake was available. A weary sigh escaped her. Something needed to break soon. She couldn’t afford to keep up this lifestyle forever. And Blake probably couldn’t, either.

  She followed him back inside and picked up her phone. Once finished with the call, she joined him at the kitchen table.

  He reached across to take her hand. “You doing okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m just trying to not think about what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up when I did.” She swallowed hard.

  “Yeah, me, too.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I haven’t heard back from Doug, but Hunter called me.”

  He did? Why hadn’t Blake told her?

  He answered her unspoken question. “He called late last night, right after you had gone to bed. I figured I’d wait till this morning to tell you.”

  “Did he learn anything interesting?”

  “Yeah, he did. Bear Stevens is still in prison and not likely to get out anytime soon. He got sentenced to life, and he’s just exhausted his last appeal.”

  Allison nodded. “It sounds like he’s definitely not our guy.”

  “Unless he’s directing it from prison.”

  “But why bother? I mean, if he does have something hidden out there, it’s not going to benefit him now. Not where he’s spending the next thirty or forty years.”

  “You have a point.” Blake stood and walked toward the door. “The police should be pulling up any minute.”

  Allison followed him from the room. “You know, there’s one thing about all this that doesn’t make sense. Why was he carrying a rope ladder? He already had the grappling hook with the rope, and he obviously had no trouble scaling it.”

  Blake stopped and turned to face her, his jaw tight, his posture stiff. The moment his eyes met hers, a cold knot of fear filled her stomach.

  “The ladder wasn’t for him.” His tone was ominous, his gaze penetrating. “It was for you.”

  * * *

  Blake slid tomato wedges from a cutting board into a bowl containing a variety of greens. Pleasant aromas wafted from the oven, some kind of a chicken casserole that he had helped Allison put together. The digital timer counted down the minutes, while a small television droned on, airing the six o’clock news from its place on the end of the counter. Brinks, full and happy, lay in the corner next to his licked-clean dish.

  Blake drew in a fragrant breath. Their sixth home-cooked meal in six days. He could get used to this. Actually, there were a lot of things about Allison that he could get used to. And a lot he didn’t want to live without.

  Allison plopped some cut-up cucumber into the bowl and set to work grating a carrot. When finished, she leaned back against the counter and frowned. “How long are we going to have to keep this up?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulle
d her to him. “Hopefully for a long time. I’m kind of enjoying spending almost every waking minute with you.”

  She gave him a gentle push and twisted out of his arms to pace the kitchen. “That’s not what I mean. For the past seven nights, I’ve been paying to stay at the Harbour Master Suites while my house sits empty a few blocks away.”

  He knew what she meant, but it was a discussion he didn’t want to have. Even though he had been thinking the same thing.

  She stopped pacing and continued. “So far, the only thing we have is a rope ladder, and the chances of that leading anywhere are slim to none.”

  Blake sighed. She was right. None of the local stores carried that particular model, even on the mainland. So it had likely been bought online. Cedar Key PD was currently working on seeing what they could find out through Amazon.com, but it was a long shot.

  “Let’s give it a few more days.” Eventually she would have to move back home. But he wanted to put it off as long as possible. When that time came, he would enlist the help of every officer Cedar Key could spare.

  Allison closed the distance between them and again stepped into the circle of his arms. “All right. A few more days.” She smiled up at him. “So tell me another secret.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re scared of snakes. What else don’t your closest friends know about you?”

  “You like this ‘Tell me a secret’ game, don’t you?” He hugged her more tightly. After all she had been through, she wanted to make sure she knew everything about him. And he was okay with that.

  “Well, I sometimes get choked up during sad movies.”

  Her smile widened. “Nothing wrong with that. I can cry over McDonald’s commercials.”

  “That’s pathetic.”

  “No, it’s not. The soldier comes home from Afghanistan, and his family takes him to McDonald’s for a Big Mac and fries. It’s touching.”

  Yeah, he could see that. And he could see Allison thinking so. That was one of the things he loved about her, her sensitivity. He matched her smile with one of his own. “If you say so.”