by Adam Carter
Perhaps she was ready for the outside world after all.
“I never saw the point of window shopping,” he told her.
“That’s because you’re a man.”
“I’d prefer to buy you a dress instead. Something summery.”
“And what if Johnson drops by while you’re out?”
“Oh.” He made a show of thinking it through. “Nothing else for it then. I guess you’ll have to come with me.”
She blinked, uncertain she had heard him right. “You serious?”
Baronaire shrugged. “My boss is not going to like it, but he has better things to come down on me for.”
Rachael rose, not sure whether to be happy about the prospect of stepping outside the house, back into the world. “Can we take Blackie?”
“Let’s not. Dogs draw attention.”
She nodded, of which Baronaire was grateful. “I’ll, uh, get my shoes on then.”
“Might want to get dressed as well, while you’re at it.”
“Oh. Right.” She seemed flustered, but Baronaire knew better than to make mention of it. “Uh, Baronaire, why do you want to buy me a dress anyway?”
It was a good question. He didn’t draw a salary so had very little money as it was. But he felt sorry for her, and that was the truth. Besides, he might be able to claim it back on expenses if he could sweet-talk the person who handled the books. “Because you’ll need to look nice tonight,” he said instead. “I think it’s about time we ate out, dear. We don’t do nearly as much of that any more as two people in a happy home should.”
Rachael hurried off to get dressed. She did not say anything, but her face was lit up like a pyromaniac’s suicide. There was a low grumble within the back of Baronaire’s mind that this was certainly not the best of ideas, yet he pushed the indecision aside. His colleagues were doing their best, and so must he. And his assignment had been to look after Rachael Webster, so that was just what he would do. In his own way.
CHAPTER THREE
He wasn’t quite sure where to look. Waiting by the dressing rooms with a couple of garments already draped over one arm, Baronaire was very aware that he was standing smack in the middle of the lingerie section. His gaze travelled across the various items hanging from the display racks and centred upon a very large picture of a young woman wearing nothing but her underwear. He did not think it appropriate for him to be staring at either, so instead focused his attention on a fire extinguisher. He saw a shop assistant wander by and smiled; it was probably the most uncomfortable he had ever felt in his life.
“What d’ya think?” Rachael asked as she drew back the curtain and did a twirl. The dress was sky blue, with frilly bits and tassels. Or at least that was how Baronaire would have described it. He would not have dared say anything like that out loud of course; he knew nothing about women’s clothes and wasn’t about to pretend he did.
“It’s very nice,” he said. It had been the first dress she had tried on. She had then gone onto five others before finally coming back to this one. When she had put it on the first time he could tell in her eyes that this was the one she wanted. Just why she had insisted on trying the others was beyond him, but again he wasn’t about to ask.
Rachael was peering over her shoulder into the mirror, trying to look at her back probably, or checking how it shaped around her backside. If she didn’t manage to get the look she wanted she was liable to try for another half dozen dresses.
“It emphasises your bum,” he said before he could stop himself.
Rachael stared at him with a frown. “You’re saying I have a fat backside?”
“No, I’m saying you have a ... nice bum?” He could see he wasn’t winning, so added, “Come on, it’s your best feature.”
She stared at him coldly for several moments, then shook her head. “Give me a minute,” she said and disappeared back behind the curtain.
Baronaire was angry with himself, but he was out of his element here. “I’m sorry, Rachael,” he said through the curtain, leaning his back against the wall in dejection. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Takes a lot to upset me, Charles,” her voice came back to him. At least she was back to calling him Charles. That was a good sign. Ordinarily Baronaire didn’t like for anyone to call him Charles – only his boss and Jeremiah got to do that – but he hadn’t chastised Rachael for it since he was hoping it might put her at ease. The curtain was drawn back again and Rachael was just smoothing down her T-shirt. She handed Baronaire the dress. “Think I’ll go with that one.” She smiled to show there were no hard feelings. “After all, it emphasises my bum.”
They moved away from the changing area. Rachael was walking slowly, Baronaire noticed; carefree. This was her first time out of the house and she was making the most of it. There was a spring in her step now and he was pleased for her. In the busy shop there was little chance anyone could get to her, especially without causing a scene, and she had a bodyguard on hand should things turn sour. Baronaire himself was in no hurry to return to the house. He was used to living in a small flat, but hardly spent any time there. Being confined inside four walls was like a prison for him, and he could only imagine what Rachael must have been going through.
“You want to take a look at anything else here before we leave?” he asked.
“I really can’t afford anything, and I know you can’t either so don’t offer to pay.”
“I was thinking more of window shopping.”
“I thought that was a waste of time?”
Baronaire shrugged. “Guess it depends on what you’d be doing with that time otherwise.”
She glanced aside to him and he could see a smile tugging at her lips. She was still nervous being out here and her heart rate leaped whenever someone unexpectedly crossed her path, but he felt he was at last seeing something of her true personality. He hated Johnson for having submerged it in the first place.
“What would your boss have to say about that?” she asked in a small voice.
“Don’t much care. What’s he going to do, shoot me?”
“With your boss, I’m not so sure he wouldn’t.”
He hadn’t realised she knew anything about Baronaire’s job aside from his actual profession, and filed the information away for future reference. “This shop’s huge,” he said. “One door leads to the parking lot, one to the high street, one to the shopping centre,” he said. “I’ll leave it entirely up to you which we take, just remember no one’s getting to you while I’m here.”
He saw in her eyes more than a little fear, but it was quickly beaten down by her firm resolve. She wove her arm through his and patted him affectionately on the arm. “You’re a swell guy, Charles, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
They queued at the till for a couple of minutes, Baronaire’s eyes roving the shop just in case there was trouble, and Baronaire used his credit card to pay for the dress. The middle-aged woman on the till made some asinine comment about the dress which was likely meant to be flattering, and then they moved off towards the shopping centre exit. Baronaire was glad this was the one Rachael had chosen; it showed she wasn’t about ready to let scum rule her life, while at the same time was smart enough not to put herself in the open. He was growing to like her more and more all the time.
“Tell me something about yourself,” she said as they entered the throng of people hurrying to the next sale. It seemed to be her favourite phrase lately, but every time she had asked it previously Baronaire had managed to snake out of answering. This time he felt she was perhaps owed at least something.
“What do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “There a Mrs Baronaire angry you’re spending so much time with little ol’ me?”
“Perish the thought.”
He sensed a certain lightness to her next step and her heart jumped. He looked about for signs of ambush, but there was nothing.
“Girlfriend?” she asked.
Baronaire was only paying
half attention. There was a man at a sweet vendor who was looking directly at him. “Hmm? No.”
Her heart jumped again. His enhanced senses could detect her sudden perspiration. The man buying his sweets had knelt to hand them to a kid, presumably his son. He was no longer paying any attention to Baronaire, if indeed he ever was.
“Anyone back at the office that’s caught your eye?”
“Office?” Baronaire asked. “Oh. No. We’re not allowed.”
“Really. That’s ... interesting.”
“What about you?” he asked, his attention back to their conversation now and suddenly realising he didn’t like the direction it was taking. “Anyone special?”
“Honey, they’re all special, they’re just not permanent. Why are you single though? I don’t get it. You’re young, good-looking, you don’t complain when a girl tries on six dresses then chooses the first one.” By her smile he felt she had done that to him on purpose. She had probably thought they would be heading home once her dress had been chosen and she wanted to eke it out as long as possible. “I’m serious,” she pressed. “You should have a string of girls interested, but I get the feeling you’ve never even been clothes shopping before.”
“I’ve ... I’m not really good with girls. Not like that.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“Not a ... long-term one. We usually part company after the first date.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Well, you don’t know how involved those first dates are.”
Her look was half a smile, half a frown. “Are we talking hookers, Charles?”
He laughed. “It would be a lot easier for me to say yes, but no.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with hookers.”
“Never said there was, Rach.”
She smiled, held his arm more tightly. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve called me Rach.”
“It’s like we’re married,” he replied drolly.
They stopped by a shoe shop and Baronaire could only be glad it didn’t have another lingerie department. He performed a quick check without Rachael knowing. “You’re not coming in?” she asked.
“Be along in a moment. I just want to touch base with the office.”
He had attempted to sound jovial, although there was no sense in sugar-coating things. Concern flitted across Rachael’s face, although she brushed it aside with a false smile of her own. “Sure,” she said and disappeared inside.
Baronaire took a deep breath, releasing it very slowly. That this wasn’t his usual assignment was no longer bothering him. He was becoming attached to Rachael, which had never been a part of the plan. And if his boss had been thinking right to begin with he would never have handed Baronaire this assignment at all.
He removed his mobile phone from an inside pocket and dialled up a number. After several rings it was answered. “Any update?” he asked.
The man on the other end had a gruff voice, but then Sanders always sounded that way so Baronaire wasn’t taking it to mean anything. “This one’s clever, Charles,” he said. “And he has more friends than we figured. Our guess is he’s heading for Webster, probably wants to silence her, as though that would do him any good. I don’t think he quite realises who we are.”
“I’m not sure Rachael does either, Ed.”
“Make sure you keep it that way. How are things at the house?”
Baronaire did not hesitate. “Fine.” It wasn’t a lie either: he hadn’t actually said he was still at the house, only that it was fine.
“I know we have a lot of bodies tied into this one, Charles, but I want this guy.”
“I know. What do you want me to do?”
“Sit tight. Johnson shows, take him down any way you have to. Just try to avoid publicity.”
Baronaire knew the drill. “Right. Good luck.”
This was not going well, Baronaire thought as he put the phone away. Sanders should have had Johnson by now: how anyone could slip through Sanders’s fingers this long was beyond Baronaire. But Sanders had been right about one thing – there were a lot of people involved in this operation. Sanders wanted Rachael protected, and Baronaire had a fair idea as to why. He doubted Sanders cared anything about Rachael, but the DCI was frightened of people like Johnson, and with good reason. Baronaire honestly thought this would have all been wrapped up long ago.
“Charles!”
Baronaire winced as he heard his name. The smiling form of his next door neighbour Sid Matthews appeared then, laden with shopping bags, a short red-haired woman in tow. She looked especially glad to see him, and Baronaire wished he had made the call elsewhere, although doubted it would have made much of a difference.
“Hello, Sid,” Baronaire said in something of a groan. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I know,” Sid beamed. “You know how it is; the little woman wants to shop, so we shop.” He paused. “Strange seeing you out here though. Can’t say I’ve ever seen you out shopping before.”
“First time for everything, Matthews.”
“Come on, call me Sid.”
“I should be going. Nice to see you anyway.”
“Sure, Charles. You and Rach want to come over for a barbecue tonight? I’m loaded with supplies now.”
Baronaire glanced at the bags. “We were planning on a quiet night in, sorry.”
“There’s plenty of food to go around.”
“Really, we’re fine.”
“Well, if you change your mind ...”
Matthews and the red-head left then, the latter casting a somewhat nervous glance over her shoulder at Baronaire as they departed. Baronaire ignored her and turned to head into the shoe shop. He paused when he saw Rachael staring at him through the window, although she quickly looked away. Sighing, he entered the shop and smiled at the shoes she was trying on. “Nice.”
“What did they want?”
Baronaire shrugged. “Just being friendly I guess.”
“I don’t like him,” she shuddered. “He’s always looking at me.”
“Don’t let him bother you.”
“I’m serious, the guy’s a creep.”
“Forget about him. Hey, you want to grab a coffee?”
Rachael eyed him warily and Baronaire realised he had been pushing too strongly. He wasn’t used to any of this, and trying to work at the same time as keeping a young lady entertained was tiring business indeed. Add to that the shopping trip and he was bushed. “What did your boss say?” she asked at last, her eyes still betraying her wariness.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“He escaped didn’t he?”
“They’re onto him.”
Rachael blinked. “He’s coming for me isn’t he?”
“We don’t know that. And even if he was,” Baronaire added as her hysteria built, “I’m here to protect you.”
“Protect me? You can’t protect me.”
“Yes,” Baronaire said in a voice of stone, “I can.”
Rachael looked away, although he could see she was dejected now. She was afraid again, and he couldn’t blame her. He considered telling her something of the truth, something to make her realise that there really were good people on her side and that when he said he could protect her he really meant he could protect her. But he said none of this. Instead he just attempted another smile and said, “So, about that coffee?”
“I think I’d like to go back now,” Rachael said distantly, and he could see she was fighting tears. “I don’t feel like shopping any more.”
He could not blame her, but he supposed he had at least got her out of the house for a little while. She had had a good day out, and if not for Matthews and that stupid woman she would still be enjoying herself. Baronaire was sorely tempted to call Sanders back and tell him to have someone else watch over Rachael. That way Baronaire could hunt down Johnson and deal with this situation tonight. But he did not. Sanders knew what he was doing and Baronaire had to trust him.
&n
bsp; “Sure,” he said. “I’m getting tired anyway. I’ll make you lunch when we get back.”
He drove with a silent passenger. Several times Baronaire attempted to strike up a conversation, but Rachael was still withdrawn, distant, and he could do nothing to bring her back to him. When they got back to the house Baronaire noted the curtains twitch next door and felt like hurling a brick through the window. Somehow he restrained himself. Rachael said she wasn’t feeling well and went straight upstairs. Baronaire considered making her a sandwich anyway but knew she would not eat it. He could see nothing of Blackie and could only assume the dog was upstairs with her. He heard her sobbing all afternoon and knew she was terrified, but there was nothing he could do to ease her pain. She was a lonely, frightened young woman and Baronaire felt sorry for her.
For once he did not feel anything but pity and wondered whether this assignment was taking its toll on him. He sat in the armchair all afternoon doing word searches from a book he had found. It passed the time but did nothing to aid the situation any. He just hoped Sanders was out there making progress. He didn’t think he would be able to bear another week of this. And he knew for a fact Rachael wouldn’t be able to bear another day.
CHAPTER FOUR
She had tried to be strong, had tried doing everything the way Baronaire wanted, but it wasn’t working. Johnson was out there and he was actively looking for her. There was nowhere for Rachael to run or hide, and there was only so much Baronaire could do to protect her. He seemed like a nice guy, but with men like Johnson there wasn’t any leeway. He was used to getting what he wanted, and people like Rachael were always going to be there to take the fall.
She was curled in in a ball upon her bed. She had long since ceased to cry; there were no more tears left in her. Blackie was perched close to her bed, his long tongue wagging, his ears pressed sadly against the side of his head as though he could sense her terrible mood. There was a sombre nature to his eyes, as though he desperately wanted to help her somehow but lacked any actual ability to do anything. He couldn’t even ask her what he could do to help, but just his being there was something.