So why was she still sensing a threat? She folded her arms across her chest and studied the apartment as if she were a CSI looking over a crime scene.
Throw pillows? Check. Curtains pulled to dim the light from outside? Check. Library book on the end table by the chair? Check. Daily mail? Uh-oh. She began to scowl. “I’m sure Olga put it on the table when she brought it up for me.” Was it possible she had merely imagined the daily routine happening again? And where was her purse?
Abigail’s chest tightened with a band of tension that again restricted her breathing. She’d taken her purse to work with her. It was either still at the office or in the K-9 cop’s wrecked vehicle! If that SUV ended up in a repair garage, there was no telling what would become of her personal property.
Her cell phone was cradled in her hand before she realized she hadn’t saved Reed’s number. Dialing 911 as if her problem was an emergency was wrong, so what other options did she have? She wasn’t even sure he was connected to the precinct that patrolled her neighborhood.
Feeling guilty for calling out to God only when she was in dire straits, Abigail nonetheless prayed, “Lord, what now?”
Instead of receiving a sense of calm, she thought she heard an unfamiliar noise. She held her breath. Listened for it to repeat. Had it come from her bedroom? Walls between apartments weren’t soundproof, so it could have come from next door. But what if it hadn’t? Instinct insisted she should turn around and leave.
“And go where?” she said, barely speaking and relying on the sound of her own voice for slight solace. The deserted hallway could be just as menacing as what she thought she’d just heard. Suppose her imagination was on overload again?
Abigail pressed her back against the inside of her entry door. Reed had told her he’d seen at least two men leaving the scene of her assault, so what if one was in there with her and the other waited in the hall?
The phone in her hand vibrated! She fumbled with it, trying to answer. Instead of hello, she whispered, “Help,” then hoped the call wasn’t from a telemarketing computer.
“Abby? Abigail? Are you all right?”
It was Reed. Praise the Lord, it was Reed.
“Why did you run off? What’s going on?”
Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. Cradling the phone, she cupped her other hand around her mouth and said, “I think there’s somebody in the apartment with me.”
“I’m already on my way. Hide!” he shouted in her ear.
Abigail would gladly have followed his orders if she could have. Unfortunately, her body was refusing to listen to her mind. Her sandals might as well have been nailed to the living room floor.
An interior door shut with a snick.
Abigail willed herself to flee. Nothing happened.
Footsteps made a slow, unmistakable cadence.
She inhaled. Swallowed a gasp. Watched for signs of the prowler she was now certain of. Her head was swimming. Her stomach lurched. Tight fists made her nails cut into her palms.
That pain was enough to jar her loose. She dropped to the floor and crawled behind the sofa. Heartbeats in her ears mimicked a bass drum. Intakes of breath were like a hurricane. Evil filled the atmosphere.
She held her breath as best she could and waited. There were no words for another divine supplication. All she could do was picture Reed Branson and pray in her heart that he reached her in time.
* * *
If Reed had taken the time to park before phoning Abigail’s cell, it might have taken him longer to respond. As it was, he’d made up his mind to join her whether she liked it or not. That decision had supposedly been based on delivering Midnight, but he wasn’t fooling himself. He wanted, he needed, to see with his own eyes that she was all right.
And now he knew otherwise. No wonder something inside him had kept insisting he must not leave her. She was in trouble. And it was her own fault. If she hadn’t jumped out of the car and taken off he’d have been there to help her.
The staircase to the third floor was deserted this time. Breathing hard, he tried the knob on her door. It didn’t turn. Should he knock and tip off a possible prowler or smash in the door and take a chance on traumatizing Abigail?
He knocked. “Ms. Jones?”
Nothing.
He rapped louder. “Abigail?”
TV and movie cops broke down doors with their shoulders. Real ones knew better. Lacking a battering ram and sufficient manpower to swing it, he readied himself for a kick.
The knob moved. Reed put a hand on the butt of his concealed .38, ready to draw if necessary.
Then he heard her whisper his name. “Reed?”
The door swung open. Abigail was standing there, tears streaming down her face, cheeks pale, hair mussed, looking more like one of the street kids she helped than she did a social worker.
Every muscle in his body was taut, his nerves primed. “You okay?”
She nodded, then stepped back and pointed to the hallway he hadn’t explored when he’d visited before.
“The prowler?”
“Yes. I heard him back there.”
This time, Reed did draw his weapon. Thumb resting on the safety, he gestured to Abigail with his free hand. “You stay here.” Her lack of positive response made him hesitate. “I mean it. Don’t move till I get back.”
“O-okay.”
There were only two doors off the short hallway and both of them were open. A tiny bathroom had no outlet. Her bedroom, however, had a window that provided access to a fire escape. Sea breezes were lifting the leading edges of the curtain.
Reed paused only long enough to make sure the prowler hadn’t set a trap by hiding in the closet, then hurried to the open window and looked down the fire escape. A large person wearing a dark hoodie dropped down from the extension ladder and hit the sidewalk running.
“Police! Freeze!” Reed shouted, figuring his chances of compliance were zero to none. He was right. The fleeing man had a nondescript car waiting and disappeared into it.
Holstering the .38, he returned to Abigail. She had obviously recovered some but was still far from sedate. “Sorry,” Reed told her, “he got away.”
“Did you see him?”
“Not enough to identify. He ran down the fire escape. I’ll have the window frame dusted for prints but I doubt we’ll find any.”
“I always keep that window closed and locked.”
He nodded and began investigating the rest of the apartment. “I’m glad I got here before he had a chance to harm you. Can you tell if he stole anything?”
“There’s hardly anything in here worth stealing,” she replied. “I live simply. My computer is at work and I keep a tablet in my purse. Which reminds me. I think I left the purse in your wrecked car. I really need it.”
“Understood.” Search completed, he studied her. Whether she realized it or not, she couldn’t stay here. Not until she remembered enough for the police to recognize and capture her enemies. The question was, how was he going to convince her to find a more secure place to live when he knew she considered her current apartment a sanctuary?
Perhaps being blunt would save them all time and argument. “You need to find some other place to stay for a little while,” Reed said flatly. “Call a friend.”
All Abigail did was shake her head.
“I’m serious. You can’t stay here now that we know how vulnerable you are.”
“New York is full of burglars. I’ll keep the window locked.”
“I thought you said you already did.”
“Well, he must have jimmied it.” Beginning to pace, she waved her hands in the air as proof of her frustration. “I don’t know.”
Reed leaned back against the kitchen counter, folded his arms and gave her a steady look. “Think for a minute. The locks on the window are fine. I just checked. It seems more li
kely that he got in through the door and used the window for a quick exit when he heard me coming.”
Rosy color drained from her face. Her lips parted. Her eyes widened, glistening. “How?”
“Our crime scene techs may have some idea after they’ve examined this place, but don’t count on it. Old buildings are covered with scars.” Waiting for her to come to a suitable conclusion was driving him crazy, so he stepped closer and clasped her upper arms gently. “Look, I know none of this is your fault, but that doesn’t make it any less real. The more disturbing events pile up on you, the less likely you are to be able to recover your memory. That alone should be enough to convince you to move.”
“I don’t have any place to go.”
“Friends?”
“Not any with extra room.”
“How about the lady downstairs. Olga? She’d probably take you in.”
“No way. I’d be putting her in jeopardy. The same goes for my boss, Wanda.”
A solution to the problem had occurred to him already and he had discarded it for several reasons, not the least being his inconvenient attraction to this young woman. If—and that was a big if—he ever did decide to marry and settle down, his wife would need to be strong-willed and stable emotionally in order to cope with the trials and rigors of a cop’s job. Abigail Jones was far too sensitive and empathetic for a life like that.
The arrival of patrol officers distracted Reed for the next ten minutes. By the time those men had spoken with Abigail he’d made up his mind. With nothing stolen and no harm to the occupant of the apartment, nothing would be done about this invasion of her privacy. That left only one alternative as far as he was concerned. He’d have to take her home to Rego Park, Queens, with him.
Reed grimaced. His sister, Lani, was not going to be happy about sharing her half of their place. Not happy at all. The only element of his idea that might appeal to her was taking in Midnight as well as Abigail Jones. Lani was a sucker for dogs. After all, she was also becoming a part of their K-9 unit and had never met a dog she didn’t love.
That way the pup could learn manners from watching an older dog. He smiled to himself. Talk about coming up with the perfect excuse to include the young Lab. He was a genius! There was no way Lani could refuse to go along with his idea when there was a needy puppy involved.
NINE
All Abigail wanted after the stressful morning she’d had was to kick off her shoes and stretch out on the sofa. Instead, she had company that kept needling her. “I still don’t see how sharing a place with you and your sister is better than staying here. Don’t you both work?”
“Yes, but not necessarily the same shifts. Besides, nobody will know where you’ve gone.”
“It’s not practical. Queens is too far from my kids.”
“I get it. I do,” Reed said, “but I can arrange to drive you back to this neighborhood. It’s not as if Rego Park is out of state.”
Her glance drifted over the inanimate objects in her living room. Nothing she owned held particular importance for her. Resale shops had provided the furniture, tag sales the kitchenware and bargain stores the incidentals. It was all generic and nothing had been a gift.
The only photos she had displayed on the bookcase were of a few of the kids she had pulled in off the streets and rehabilitated. Many others had refused to let her take their pictures. She understood why. Life had damaged their capacity to trust, especially with regard to adults, and they didn’t want to leave behind any clue to themselves, no matter where they went after leaving Brighton Beach.
She could identify with them. When she had run away and stayed on the streets during her sixteenth summer, she had acclimated far more than she had expected. If it hadn’t been for a mentor, a woman like she had become, there was no telling how far she might have sunk and whether she would have even lived this long. Given that she was essentially paying back a debt to the loving group that had saved her from destruction, she couldn’t knowingly throw it all away through false pride or stubbornness. She had to yield to Reed.
“All right,” Abigail said, turning to him. “Call your sister and make sure she doesn’t mind if I camp there for a little while. If it’s okay with her, I’ll go.”
“She’s fine with it.”
Studying his ruggedly handsome face she half smiled. “You haven’t asked her, have you?”
“Well, no, but I know Lani. She won’t mind. And having a yard for the pup is a big plus. Otherwise you’d have to take her out and walk her on the street half a dozen times a day. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
Abigail huffed. “I already agreed to go. You can save the big sell.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Reed was grinning at her.
“I do appreciate all you’ve done for me. I don’t know anyone else who would have used so much of his free time for the benefit of a stranger.”
“You’re not a stranger,” he countered. “Not anymore. Grab whatever you think you’ll need and let’s go. The dogs are waiting.”
“I can’t believe you left them both in the car,” she said, intending to sound critical.
“I told you the AC was on. They were secure and fine. Did you expect me to take the time to get them out and lug that moose up the stairs when I knew you were in trouble?”
“No.” She made a face. “You’re right.”
“Well, that’s an improvement.”
One eyebrow arched higher than the other and she tilted her head to the side. “What is?”
“You just said I was right about something. I may keel over from shock any minute.”
“Hey, if I have an opinion, you’re going to hear it, regardless.”
Reed had to chuckle. “No kidding.”
Hands fisted on her hips, Abigail took a stand in more ways than one. “Look. I know I’ve been traumatized. I’m not my usual self, nor am I the person you met at Luna Park. I’m no helpless weakling. I’ve had to fight to be taken seriously all my life and I’m not backing down. I will do whatever it takes or say whatever I need to in order to recover my memory and continue my career. It’s my true calling, whether you realize it or not.”
She had watched his expression fluctuate as she spoke. He was definitely listening.
“My apologies, Ms. Jones,” Reed said soberly. “You’re right. I was assuming too much.” He noted the time. “The dogs have been alone for almost half an hour. I need to go check on them. How long will it take you to pack?”
“Not long.” She wanted to keep him in sight, to lean on his strength despite her speech to the contrary. “Why don’t you go get them and bring them up here for a few minutes while I grab an overnight bag and fill it?”
“I can do that,” Reed replied.
She could tell he was as hesitant to leave as she was to have him go. When he suggested she walk down with him to get the dogs, she was more than happy to oblige. Noting how cautiously he entered the hallway before permitting her to join him helped reinforce her decision to move. Staying on edge day and night was not conducive to her mental healing.
To Abigail’s consternation, she was literally yearning to remain near Reed. He’d become her anchor in the maelstrom whirling around her, the only steadying influence in her life.
Everyone else needed her to help them. Only Reed Branson stood ready to give support instead of taking it.
* * *
With Abigail to coax Midnight to try, the gangly pup made it up the stairs. By the third floor the younger dog was gamboling and panting and wagging her tail as if she’d just climbed Mt. Everest.
“She did it!” Abigail acted almost as excited as the ebony pup.
It pleased Reed to see how delighted the two of them were by their shared accomplishment. Let them celebrate while they could. He was still on protection duty. All he had to do was keep Abby from noticing his diligence.
Using th
e shortened version of her name in his thoughts made him ask aloud, “Does anybody ever call you Abby?”
Her smile disappeared. “My mother used to. I don’t care for it, if you don’t mind.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It would have been better for me if Mom had hit the road with Dad when he left.”
“Did your mother divorce him? Remarry?” He held the apartment door for her and they entered with the dogs.
“Nope. But she had plenty of boyfriends.”
“Is that why you left?” He could tell she was debating whether or not to explain and he knew he shouldn’t have pressed her, so he added, “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“I wasn’t going to put it like that. I’d just rather not discuss it.” Pink color rose in her cheeks. “Those are memories I wish I could forget the way I’ve blacked out getting attacked.”
“Have you recalled anything about that night?” he asked, glad for a change of subject.
Thoughtful, she passed him Midnight’s leash and stepped back. “Just little glimmers. A thought will start to form, then disappear. Like the foggy shadows.”
“What shadows?”
“It’s hard to explain. I can be thinking of something else and a picture of shadowy figures will flash into my mind. The harder I try to focus on it, the quicker the scene is gone.”
“What did it remind you of? People?”
“I think so. More than one. And when we went to my office to meet with Kiera, I got a flash of something that made the hair on my arms stand on end.” She shivered. “It was as though I was seeing her as part of the attack.”
“Do you think she was?”
Abigail was shaking her head vigorously. “No. I do wonder if one of my other cases might have been involved, though. Those kids stick together. It’s possible that Kiera knows more than she’s willing to admit.”
Reed nodded. “Okay. One thing at a time. I’ll wait with the dogs while you go pack. Make it fast. We want to get out of here ASAP.”
Trail of Danger Page 8
