Within Range

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Her back to him, she mumbled, “I almost forgot the vegetable.”

  “Okay by me.” He might have tried for lightness, but that came out husky. And, hell, he couldn’t let his father see him like this.

  Robin had found a chiding expression for him by the time Dad and Jacob came in the door from outside. Seth had almost hustled out of the kitchen when Jacob rushed to her.

  “Mommy! I swinged high!”

  She laughed and scooped him up for a hug. “I’ll bet you did.”

  Seth kept going. “Gotta wash up.”

  He used the hall bathroom to wash his hands and wait for his body to accept defeat. Nothing more was going to happen tonight. With the door open, he heard his father say, “Smells good.”

  “Like father, like son.”

  God, he loved even her voice, irresistibly warm.

  This wasn’t helping. Seth reached over to close the bathroom door and stared at himself in the mirror. Mostly, he saw the same bony face as always. He ran a hand over his jaw. Yeah, he could use a shave. And maybe his lips were a little swollen. He’d never seen himself as a handsome man, not like—

  Disgusted with himself, he splashed some cold water on his face. Looks didn’t make the man. And she’d welcomed his kiss, which he hoped wasn’t a mistake.

  When he returned to the kitchen, Jacob rushed to Seth, who hoisted him high over his head. The boy squealed in excitement and laughed. Seth lowered him to his feet and said, “I think it’s time for dinner, buddy. What do you say we set you up at the table?”

  “Thank you,” Robin said distractedly.

  He had to wonder whether her cheeks were pink from the heat of the stove or self-consciousness with him.

  “Michael,” she said, “will you get the garlic bread out of the oven?”

  The house had a rarely used formal dining room. The family had always gathered in the kitchen, where the table easily seated six. Like the stair gates, Michael had kept a high chair, which Seth now strapped Jacob into. The kid immediately grabbed his spoon and began banging it on the tray. He chanted, “Sghetti! Sghetti! Sghetti!” until Michael distracted him with a piece of bread.

  Seth caught an odd, possibly wistful expression from Robin, who’d paused to watch her son. He strolled over to her and, in a low voice, asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “What? Oh! Just about dinner.”

  “Not just about dinner.”

  He thought she was concentrating on draining the spaghetti, but she said suddenly, although also quietly, “Just how much Jacob is enjoying attention from you and your dad. He’s never really known a man very well. When his day-care operator’s husband comes home, Jacob is really shy with him.”

  She poured the spaghetti into a large ceramic bowl and handed it to him. “Sauce is already on the table. I’ll get the peas...” She glanced around, as if sure she’d forgotten something.

  “Parmesan?” he suggested.

  A minute later, they sat down around the table. Seth thought of how empty his own house was, and didn’t like knowing that Robin and Jacob wouldn’t stay forever. In fact...was that what she’d been worrying about, too?

  His father and he had been giving Jacob something important. Clearly, Robin didn’t have any men in her life to replace them. Seth switched his gaze to the boy, who had cheerfully splattered his cheeks in red sauce as he switched between a fork and his hands to shovel in the pasta.

  “Sghet-ti,” he sang around a bite.

  Seth laughed. “Let me wipe your face.”

  Jacob submitted to the cleaning, then grinned at Seth and deliberately smeared his hands over his face.

  Laughing again, Seth said, “Okay, we’ll wait to clean you up until you’re done eating.”

  “This is an especially perilous meal,” Robin said with amusement. “You notice I used a giant bib.”

  “I did. Although I think he’s got some sauce on his sleeves.”

  She rolled her eyes humorously. He liked that she didn’t stress over messes.

  Aware his father’s gaze rested on him, Seth concentrated for a minute on eating. What he’d just discovered was that he didn’t want any other man in Robin’s life, or to fill Jacob’s need for a father.

  The realization felt like a tiny lurch in the fabric of reality. Man, he was getting way ahead of himself. Yes, he knew now that she hadn’t exaggerated her abuse at the hands of Richard Winstead. At least that much she’d told him was the truth. He remained uneasy, in part because she must have known that she could have gone to the cops in Seattle. Whatever Winstead’s reputation, her medical records were overwhelmingly persuasive, and Seth hadn’t yet received them all.

  Was Robin truly still so terrified of the man, she wore blinders, thinking she had to live her entire life on the run? Or was there more?

  * * *

  AS IF SHE were a child again, Robin wound the tire swing around and around before she climbed into it. Spinning until she couldn’t tell up from down was fun then. So why wouldn’t it be now?

  Because she already knew how it felt to have her life spin out of control?

  To heck with it. She was going to do this.

  She put one leg at a time through the tire, worn bald before it found a new life. Firmly gripping the rope right above the knot, Robin took a deep breath and lifted her foot from the ground.

  The tire spun once, twice, three times, gaining speed. She leaned back and looked up at the tree branches and the sky. Her eyes couldn’t focus anymore, so fast did everything tear by. Oh, Lord—bile rose into her throat. She was going to be sick. She had to stop... With a bounce and a countertwirl, the tire slowed and she hung there for an endless moment.

  “Fun?” Seth asked.

  She clapped her hand over her mouth and squirmed out of the tire, falling to her knees on the grass. She was humiliatingly aware that he’d crouched beside her and was gently rubbing her back while she dry-heaved.

  Thank God, she didn’t quite puke, but her mouth tasted awful and she felt as if she was still in motion.

  With a hint of humor, he said, “You wouldn’t catch me dead doing that anymore.”

  “Ugh.” Robin let her head sag. “It used to be fun.”

  “Stinks to get older.”

  Her stomach muscles hurt and her head still swam. “Just what I needed to hear.”

  He chuckled. “Lie down. You’ll feel better.”

  Since she wasn’t capable of doing much else, she sprawled onto the grass on her back, arms and legs splayed. There were the tree branches above her again, still moving—no, only the leaves danced in a breeze—against the blue backdrop. Seth had risen effortlessly to his feet and looked down at her. At the moment, he was the quintessential detective, wearing dark slacks, a white button-down shirt, a badge clipped to his thin black belt and a big black gun holstered at his hip.

  “Why are you home?” she asked.

  “Decided to take the afternoon off. Hey, let me get you something to drink.” He disappeared from her limited range of vision.

  Something to drink? To rinse her mouth out, he meant. Robin ran her tongue over her teeth and made a horrible face. He was right, though; she did feel better with her body, head to heels, in contact with the nice, solid earth.

  Seth walked into sight with a can of lemon-lime soda in his hand. Her gaze zeroed in on it.

  He laughed, crouched again and helped her sit up, then popped the top off the can and handed it to her. Then he sat, too, his back to the thick bole of the maple tree.

  Robin sipped cautiously at the drink.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said in a casual tone that instantly made her wary. “Why don’t you use my phone and call your mom and sister? It should be safe.” He shifted his weight to dig his smartphone out of a pocket.

  She gave her head a hard, almost frantic shake. Not the reaction he�
�d expected, she saw from his narrowed eyes.

  Or maybe it was. Was he just being nice to suggest she call home, or did he have another motive? Could his phone be set up to record everything she said?

  Sure it could, although she felt guilty. If he was just being nice...

  “Why not?” he said softly.

  And she knew. This was a setup.

  “All I’d do is scare them if I told them what’s been happening. I’ll wait until, well, things are resolved.” Like Richard behind bars? Uh-huh, and how long would he stay there? He’d have no problem paying bail, or hiring the sharpest, most amoral attorney in Portland or Seattle to represent him.

  If she stayed in hiding, how would Richard ever be caught doing anything to get arrested? Did Seth, a small-town detective, have a chance in hell of finding proof Richard had hired the unknown stranger who had tried to steal Jacob?

  Of course not.

  Sitting cross-legged, she asked somberly, “What are we doing here, Seth? Jacob and I can’t become the guests who never go away. Your father doesn’t deserve that. It’s not that I’m eager to go home—” would the rental even feel like home? “—but if I don’t become bait, there’s no way to nail Richard. And how’s that going to work, when I refuse to put Jacob at risk?”

  “I wouldn’t ask you—” He sounded offended.

  “Then what?” Robin jumped to her feet. “You should have let me go.” She left him and hurried toward the house.

  The tension was getting to her. That was the only explanation. It was ironic, since she was certain she hadn’t been safer in years. Here she was with a police detective and a retired cop guarding her and her child.

  If only Seth didn’t inspire feelings in her she’d believed to be dead. After that last year with Richard, how could she have melted in Seth’s arms the way she had? If they’d really been alone, she doubted she’d have stopped him if he had hauled her off to his bedroom.

  So, okay, he was attracted to her, but even assuming there actually was a resolution—whatever that might be—and she stayed in Lookout instead of returning to Seattle, why would he go for a woman with such a turbulent background, a woman who was also an emotional disaster? Tall, athletic, sexy and with those startlingly blue eyes, he surely had women coming onto him wherever he went.

  And all that was assuming she didn’t end up back in Seattle not by choice, but because she had to fight a murder charge.

  Face it, she shouldn’t be thinking about a man at all, when she ought to be praying she could go home to Seattle so that she could give Allie one of her kidneys.

  Looking through the window over the sink, she saw Seth walking slowly toward the house, lines of perturbation showing on his forehead, his gaze somehow turned inward.

  Sure, she thought desperately. Just put him out of her head. Nothing to it.

  If only he wasn’t so ever-present...and so sexy.

  Chapter Ten

  Seth was already getting to know Sergeant Gordon Hammond of the Seattle PD well enough to be comfortable talking out possible strategies. Robin was right; they’d never catch this SOB red-handed unless they opened an apparent window to tempt him into making a move.

  With her permission, this morning Seth had forwarded her medical records to Hammond, who’d sounded as grim as Seth felt when they talked this morning.

  Hammond had been finding it harder than he’d expected to keep an eye on Richard Winstead’s whereabouts.

  “He has a private plane, I’ve learned. If we had a warrant, I could be informed when or if he flies in and out of Boeing Field, but as it is, I don’t have a good contact there. Some of his activities are well-publicized, but there are enough gaps, I’d have to have someone on him twenty-four seven to keep track of his whereabouts.”

  “What about this week?”

  “Well, in theory the man works full-time. He’s a partner in a major law firm, after all. In practice, he attends every city council meeting, and he’s on at least two subcommittees. In the next couple of weeks, all those meetings are during the day.”

  “Committees?”

  “Housing, Health, Energy and Workers’ Rights is one, and isn’t that a mishmash, and then there’s Governance, Equity and Technology.” Hammond was clearly reading off a website or his notes. “Both committees can meet up to a couple of times a week.”

  “A man of dependable judgment,” Seth said drily.

  The sergeant snorted. “I suppose his civic activism is good for the law firm.”

  “Oh, I imagine his partners consider it part of his contribution to the firm’s profits.”

  More thoughtfully, Hammond said, “I’m assuming there’d be some record if he didn’t attend a meeting he was supposed to be at.”

  “I’d rather know in advance when he’s out of town.” Seth rested his elbows on his desk. “And then there’s the problem of his hired help.”

  “Since you can’t be sure Winstead has ever been in Lookout, that’s the bigger problem, I’d say.”

  “Ms. Hollis hinted at the possibility of offering herself as bait. I don’t like it, but I might find a way to make it appear she’s back home at the rental.” His department didn’t have any female officers, but the county and a neighboring town or two did. He might be able to borrow a stand-in.

  He frowned. What were the odds he’d find one who bore any resemblance to the woman who was currently giving him sleepless nights?

  “If she’s willing to testify,” the sergeant said hesitantly, “we could bring him up on the abuse.”

  “Even if he were convicted, he’d be out of jail in the blink of an eye and mad as hell.”

  “How did he find her? Twice?”

  Seth pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s harder to disappear than it used to be. We both know that. Doesn’t sound like she had any professional help, either.”

  “And he can afford to write a blank check to a PI.”

  Seth gritted his teeth. “If I can find out who that is, I’d like to have some words with him.”

  Hammond agreed, and promised to let Seth know what he learned about Winstead’s plans in advance.

  A report half an hour later that shots had been fired at the high school pulled Seth away from his desk. Over the next hours, he interviewed dozens of students and the baseball coaching staff before finally arresting a young idiot who appeared shocked at the official response and insisted, “If I’d really wanted to shoot someone, I would have! All I did was...”

  Get himself in some serious trouble. But at least there were no victims. Thank God.

  Of course, writing reports killed the rest of Seth’s working day. He didn’t know when he’d been so glad to leave work. If that’s what he was actually doing, he mused. Cops had been known to blur the relationship line between professional and personal, but not him. With Robin and Jacob, though, he’d crossed right on over. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could find the line again, unless and until they walked out of his life.

  Halfway to his father’s house, Seth was still brooding. That was also the moment when he realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to the traffic around him. Usually it was instinct. Given that he could lead someone right to Robin and Jacob, he’d been even more careful than usual in the past few days.

  A silver sedan and a black crossover were behind him. He took an abrupt turn at the next intersection. The crossover kept going, the sedan stuck behind him. Both roads were well-used, so that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Two more turns, and he’d lost the sedan, too. Still, he zigzagged the rest of the way to his father’s, and remained uneasy when he got there, watching for any traffic passing on the quiet country road at the foot of the driveway.

  He went in and said hello to everyone, changed into old clothes he kept here for the times he helped his father with yard work or maintenance and went back out.
He knew where to find the crawler for sliding under cars, and used it and a flashlight to examine the underside of his Ford F-150 pickup truck. He slid his fingers inside the bumper and beneath the license plates, failing to find anything.

  When he sat up, his father and Robin both stood over him.

  “Car problem?” his father asked.

  “Where’s Jacob?” He turned his head.

  “Watching TV.”

  “Nothing wrong with the truck. I just got to thinking how easy it would be to plant a tracker.” It was Robin he looked at when he said, “I’d be bound to lead someone to you eventually.”

  “What a wonderful thought.” She whirled and hurried back into the house.

  His father nodded at his pickup. “You sure you would have found it?”

  “Not a hundred percent, no. I need to take a look inside, too, even though I kept the doors locked.”

  Michael shrugged. They both knew how easy it was to pop a window and unlock a car or truck. Patrol officers carried a tool to help them do exactly that for citizens who’d locked their keys inside their own cars. Seth, for one, could do it in twenty seconds or less.

  “Robin cooking again?”

  His father scowled. “I offered to grill, but she insisted. Seems to think she owes me something for letting her and the boy stay here. As if they’re any kind of burden.”

  Seth grinned. “When the truth is, you’re enjoying the company.”

  “Nice lady who cooks, great kid. Of course I am.” His father smiled. “Remember how whiny Ivy was? And that stretch when I swear the only word Sara knew was no?”

  Laughing now, Seth said, “Yeah, I think that’s why Grace brought the girls out here that time. She was ready to tear her hair out. Huh. Jacob is bound to learn the power of ‘no.’”

  They were both chuckling when they returned to the house, where spaghetti was once again on the menu.

  Robin apologized. “I made way too much sauce. I don’t know what I was thinking. Usually at home I freeze it in small batches, and I could have done that, but I thought why not have it another night?”