Between Love and Duty

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Oh, dear.” Washingtonians should know how to drive in the rain, but somehow they didn’t. Maybe too many of them were transplanted Californians.

  When she said as much, Duncan grunted. “Too many people are idiots. That’s a simpler explanation.”

  She laughed. “Will you be quoted as saying that in the Dispatch?”

  “If it would make people slow down, I would. One of those idiots killed himself and his twenty-three-year-old son going over eighty miles an hour on the highway, weaving in and out of heavy traffic. That mess belonged to the State Patrol, not us, thank God, but it spilled over because the highway was shut down for almost two hours.”

  “Which meant everyone tried to detour through town.”

  He gave another unhappy grunt. “Speeding, of course, because they were frustrated.”

  “I heard there was an ugly accident. I didn’t know that somebody died.”

  “The only good part is that no one else was severely injured.”

  He told her more about his day as they ate. She reciprocated, even though her tidbits felt so trivial next to the tragedies that occupied him.

  But I deal in dreams, Jane reminded herself. Dreams counted, too.

  She was embarrassed to realize how hungry she was for the sight of his face as they talked. Why it was so sexy with all the careworn lines, she couldn’t have said, but then thought—no, his face was sexy because it was worn. Because those lines made visible the burden he carried and the fact that he cared.

  And then there was his mouth, so often unrelenting but occasionally quirking into those startling grins. And the eyes, cold and dangerous as black ice one minute, soft and mysterious as a winter mist the next.

  His hands…

  Jane gritted her teeth. Oh, boy. I’m in deep trouble here.

  When Hector and Tito appeared beside their table, she was startled enough to have to suppress a squeak. How embarrassing was it that she hadn’t once glanced toward them. Would she have noticed if Hector and Tito had left without stopping? Would Duncan? She didn’t think so. Although he had likely been brooding about the tragic consequences of people’s carelessness, not the curve of her lips.

  “Tito would like to drive with me to the theater,” Hector said stiffly.

  Yanked back to her responsibilities, Jane tried to remember if Hector’s truck had decent tires but couldn’t. Oh, for goodness sake! She wasn’t the boy’s mother to worry about things like that.

  “Sure,” she said, without looking at Duncan. Soon enough, they would have to let go. Tito would probably end up living with his father and neither she nor Duncan would have any say whatsoever in his life. “We’ll be right behind.”

  Frowning, Duncan watched them go. Then he turned his gaze to her. “Why don’t you come with me? I can bring you to get your car after the movie.”

  Jane didn’t let herself be tempted. “The theater is halfway home for me. I’d as soon drive.”

  He nodded and rose, taking both their trays.

  They were apparently parked on opposite sides of the lot and separated as soon as they got outside. The rain had, surprisingly, let up a little, but Jane hurried, anyway. Either she was still damp enough to feel the chill, or the rain wasn’t that far from turning into snow, unusual but not unknown in May.

  She reached her car and had already inserted the key in the lock when she saw that something had splattered on the windshield. Her heartbeat picked up and she took one step to see better.

  Oh, God. A spiderweb of cracks radiated from a center in the windshield, as if…as if a head had smashed it. Right where her head would have struck in an accident. Diluted by the rain, blood ran in crooked rivers down the shattered glass.

  Her mouth opened on a scream, but it might have backed up in her throat. Jane had only one thought: Duncan. She turned and ran.

  SHOULDERS HUNCHED AGAINST the drizzle, Duncan was unlocking his SUV when he heard running footsteps. He spun to face the threat, his hand reached for his weapon. He was shocked to see Jane tearing across the parking lot toward him, water splashing beneath her feet.

  He had only seconds before she reached him, long enough to see that she was distraught. Operating on instinct, he opened his arms and she flung herself at him.

  It was more of a collision than an embrace. He closed his arms around her and swung her toward the body of the SUV while he searched the parking lot for whoever had scared her. Headlights moved over them as a car pulled out, but, clinging to him, she seemed oblivious.

  “Jane,” he said urgently. “What’s wrong?”

  She mumbled something against his chest.

  He backed off enough that she had to lift her head.

  She blinked a couple of times. Rain soaked her face like tears. “I’m being stupid,” she whispered. “It was just…”

  “What was ‘just’?” Duncan said in exasperation.

  “My windshield. Somebody broke my windshield.”

  “You mean, a vandal?”

  She didn’t say anything for long enough, his eyes narrowed.

  “Yes, but…maybe not exactly.”

  His suspicion crystalized, and he hustled her around the SUV to the passenger side where he opened the door. “Get in.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To look at your car. Where else?”

  A moment later, he got in as well and slammed his door, shutting out the wet night. The sodium lamps made the lighting diffuse and yellow. He realized how very still she sat, her elbows pressed to her sides, hugging herself. She was shivering.

  Swearing, he turned on the engine and cranked up the heat, for what good that would do in the immediate future. He steered in the direction she’d come from. “Where are you parked?” he asked.

  She gestured, and he spotted her car. After pulling up behind it, he shook his head when she reached for the door handle. “Let me take a look.”

  Duncan didn’t like what he saw. It wasn’t only the damage to the windshield that had scared her, he knew immediately; it was the red dye or paint or, hell, maybe real blood that had diluted to pink in the last trickles on the windshield and where it had washed onto the hood. This wasn’t as simple as a teenager enjoying the act of randomly smashing car windows and windshields in a parking lot.

  To be thorough, Duncan inspected all the nearest cars. None had been damaged. Then he went to his 4Runner and got in.

  The heat was starting to kick in, but small trembles still shook Jane. He sat there for a moment.

  “I doubt it’s blood.”

  “No. It’s, um, probably paint. Maybe spray paint.”

  “And you guess spray paint because…?” He waited.

  Finally she looked at him. “I’ve had a couple of other, um, incidents recently.”

  He had to clamp down on anger that was out of proportion. “Incidents.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were colorless in this light, dilated perhaps from shock. “Somebody spray-painted a message on the back door of my store. And then, well, I got a nasty note in the mail.”

  “You called the police, of course.” He knew damn well she hadn’t.

  She shook her head. “They were…unpleasant but not exactly threatening.”

  Not exactly.

  “What did they say?” He sounded one hell of a lot more patient than he felt.

  Turning her head so she was no longer meeting his eyes, she told him.

  “Unpleasant,” he repeated, an edge in his voice.

  “Neither was really threatening.” Her eyes rolled his way. “Exactly.”

  He was really getting to hate that word.

  “‘Bitch, you’ll be sorry’ doesn’t strike you in any way as a threat?”

  She’d recovered enough to glare at him. “Well, of course it could be! But it isn’t necessarily, either. The person might only mean that I’ll regret whatever it was I did. I mean, there are always consequences…” She petered out under the force of his disbelieving stare, then straightened her shoulders and said, �
�No matter what decision I make as Guardian ad Litem, somebody is left unhappy. I’m not the most popular person around.”

  “Was Hector here before you?” Duncan asked slowly.

  “I knew you’d ask that!” she stormed. “I knew it! That’s why I didn’t tell you about the other incidents.”

  “Was he?” Duncan asked, implacable.

  “No! No, he wasn’t. Which doesn’t mean a thing. He had no way of knowing I’d let Tito go with him. If he were going to do something like that, he wouldn’t want Tito to see.”

  Duncan unclenched his jaw. “You’re sure about that? Maybe he was disappointed you said yes. Maybe he wanted to see your face when you walked out to your car. Did you ever think of that?”

  “No.” She met his stare defiantly. “Hector didn’t do this.”

  “And you know that because…?”

  “He’s not like that.”

  Maybe he should have stifled the disparaging sound, but why?

  At least she didn’t look scared anymore. Now she was mad. “He’s getting what he wants, all right? Why would he do something this stupid? If somebody had seen him whacking my windshield, he’d have lost his son for good. Tell me why he’d do that?”

  Duncan could think of a lot of reasons, none rational, but he also, grudgingly, had to admit she was making sense. Hector was getting his way. Two more weeks and they’d be in front of the judge again. If Hector behaved himself he’d likely have full access to his kid, and custody as soon as he had a decent place to live. This would have been a stupid thing for him to do.

  Which didn’t mean he hadn’t done it. Resentment and hurt, pride and rage at authority weren’t easily corralled by common sense.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m going to call someone. We’ll get your car towed to somewhere it can be worked over.”

  “My insurance will replace the windshield.”

  “Fine. But not until we make sure there are no other surprises.”

  She shivered. “I didn’t look inside.”

  Duncan had, and had seen nothing, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

  Instead of phoning dispatch, he called his brother, who sounded surprised to hear from him.

  “You busy?” Duncan asked.

  “Uh…is this important?”

  “Yeah. I have something I’d like you to handle if you can.”

  “It’s work.”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you home?”

  “No.” Duncan sighed. “This has to do with that boy I’ve been spending time with. Tito Ortez.” He gave a very short synopsis of what he and Jane were doing at McDonald’s, then told Niall about the two previous “incidents.”

  “A Guardian ad Litem,” his brother said thoughtfully. “She probably pisses a lot of people off.”

  “So she tells me.”

  “Okay,” Niall said, all cop. “Sit tight. I’ll arrange a tow, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  It felt strange to be grateful he had his little brother to call. Not that there weren’t plenty of competent detectives on the Stimson Police force, but this crime felt personal to Duncan. A frown gathered on his face at the thought. Not only personal to Jane, but to him, as well. Because she mattered.

  Too much.

  No, that was ridiculous. Of course he felt differently than he would if she were a stranger who’d happened to be eating here tonight and who’d come racing to him for help. Jane was…not a friend. But something like that. They might have started as adversaries but they’d become allies of a sort. She was easy to talk to when they both let down their guards. When they didn’t, he enjoyed sparring with her.

  Face it. He felt more for Jane Brooks than he did for most of his friends.

  Besides which, he still suspected Hector had set up this little surprise for her.

  “If it wasn’t Hector,” he said into the silence, “how’d somebody know this was your car? Why not do it outside your store?”

  “I parked in front today.” She was hugging herself again. She moved a little, maybe restlessly, but maybe not. She might be shivering again. “Usually I park in the alley. I have a spot there, next to the Dumpster. Offers plenty of privacy for the wandering vandal. But the garbage truck was blocking the alley, so I parked on the street.”

  “Too many witnesses.”

  She nodded. “All somebody would have had to do was follow me. I came straight here from work. Except there could have been witnesses here, too.”

  “Yeah, but it’s getting dark and with the rain, visibility stinks. And—” he tried not to make it sound like a criticism “—you parked around back.”

  She huddled miserably.

  Duncan kept the expletive he was thinking silent. Had it not yet occurred to her that the same somebody could as well have followed her home? Might already have followed her home?

  “Both incidents were at the store,” he said.

  Her head bobbed.

  “Tell me you’re not in the phone book.”

  “No, but with the internet, it’s awfully hard to keep any secrets.”

  He made an acknowledging sound.

  “I’m glad I didn’t go straight home tonight,” she said in a small voice.

  “No garage?”

  “Yes. I would have driven right in and closed it behind me.” She continued hesitantly, “So I guess this couldn’t have happened at home.”

  “But you’re afraid something else would have.”

  There was another of those little shudders. “Oh, I’m being silly. This still isn’t anything worse than a teenager might have done.”

  Duncan couldn’t take it. He reached across the space between the seats and pulled her against him. Her body thrummed with tension. When her cold face burrowed into his collar opening, he exclaimed, “You’re freezing!”

  “I’m wet.”

  He could feel her mouth moving against—damn it—against his collarbone. He was supposed to be comforting and warming her, not imagining other—better—reasons for her lips to be traveling down his throat to his chest.

  “No kidding,” he said hoarsely, his fingers tangled in her soggy hair. He moved his other hand up and down her back in what he hoped was a soothing rhythm.

  Gradually the tension left her muscles until she lay against him as if contented. It was a long time before she asked, “Who was that you called?”

  He was the one to tense slightly. “My brother.”

  “Really?” To his regret, she pulled away. “But… Does that mean he’s…?”

  “Yeah, Niall is a cop, too. He’s a detective in Major Crimes.”

  “This isn’t exactly a major crime.”

  There was his favorite word again.

  “You act on behalf of the court. We take seriously a threat against someone like you.” That sounded pompous and not very personal, which maybe wasn’t a bad thing.

  Except, to his further regret, she disengaged from his embrace and retreated to her own seat. “Thank you,” she said, sounding very formal. “I appreciate all your concern.”

  “Hell. Tito,” he said, remembering.

  She made a face. “I imagine they’re enjoying the movie by now and probably didn’t even notice we failed to show up. And I have to tell you I didn’t actually want to see that movie, anyway.”

  Duncan laughed, leaning back in his own seat. “Ditto.”

  “Really?” She scrutinized him. “I would have thought…”

  “You know, if I want to watch speeding cars crashing into each other, I don’t have to go to the theater.”

  Jane giggled. It was only a small giggle, but it warmed him nonetheless.

  Unlike her, he’d been aware of another SUV pulling into the parking lot. It came up behind his, and as the driver got out he set a flashing police light on the roof.

  Niall.

  Duncan was damn glad his brother hadn’t caught him cuddling the victim of this crime.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  OF COURSE DUNCAN DROVE
her home and insisted on going in with her. Jane didn’t argue very hard, because for the first time she felt nervous about walking into her small house all alone.

  He approved the motion-activated floodlight that came on when they walked up to the porch, but seemed disapproving that she didn’t have a security system, even though she doubted very many people in town did.