“If you decided last week, why leave last night?”
“I had to wait for my car to be out of the shop.”
Mick suppressed his desire to chuckle. She wanted to make a dramatic statement, but not until it wasn’t too inconvenient for anyone around her—particularly his father.
“Does Dad know where you are?”
“For heaven’s sake, of course he does. I couldn’t just let him wonder what happened to me. He’d have the police out looking for me.”
“I see.”
“I hope you don’t mind my staying here for a few days. Just until I figure out what I’m going to do.”
He got up and kissed her forehead. “You can stay as long as you want. Make yourself at home. I’ll be in the barn.”
Once he was out of the house, he called Caroline and told her he couldn’t leave his mother out here alone with Kingery at large.
“Really, Mick,” Caroline said, “it’s just as well.” She sounded relieved, which hurt more than he’d like to admit. “Macie and I are perfectly safe here with the alarm. Besides, there’s a good chance Kingery could go after the house. It shouldn’t be left empty.”
The house could burn if it meant keeping Caroline and Macie safe, but Mick knew that wasn’t a likely trade-off. Kingery wasn’t going to stop short of his goal unless someone stopped him. “I’ll have my phone with me. Call anytime. Keep the doors locked and the alarm on. Make sure Macie doesn’t go anywhere by herself. If Odell calls, let me know.”
“Anything else, sergeant?”
Yeah, I’ve only been gone two hours and I miss you so much it’s painful. “Just be safe.”
When they hung up, Mick felt as low as he had in days.
Chapter 23
Why can’t they find this guy?” Caroline’s frustration was evident as she spoke to Mick late the next week.
“Kingery knows he’s being hunted. It’s not going to get any easier.”
“December’s getting closer,” she said tensely.
“I don’t like you and Macie being alone, but I can’t leave Mom out here.”
“Still no progress with the parents?”
“I know Dad’s called, but he must not be saying anything she wants to hear. She’s not talking about it much.”
“Maybe you should try talking to your dad.”
He laughed, and the bitterness in the sound of it resonated to his bones. “That’s like asking gasoline to put out a fire.”
“Should I cross the family photo off my Thanksgiving agenda?”
“No.” They’d have that family portrait if he had to tie everyone into their chairs to do it. Although he and Caroline spoke every day, she kept her emotional distance. The portrait guaranteed time with her.
“Well, we’ve still got a couple of weeks. Maybe they’ll make up.”
“Maybe,” he said with more optimism than he felt.
Later that evening, Mick’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he was surprised to see his parents’ home number. He answered, bracing himself for a storm.
Instead of attacking Mick’s part in his mother’s defection, Charles asked, “How’s your mother?” His voice lacked the usual commanding authority.
“All right,” Mick said cautiously. If his father was extending an olive branch to his mother, Mick didn’t want to be the one who snapped it off.
“Tonight was supposed to be bridge night,” Charles said, sounding like that explained the reason for his call.
“She must have canceled,” Mick said. “She’s not having it here.”
“Oh.” Charles cleared his throat.
Mick remained silent.
“Well, um.”
What, Charles Larsen at a loss for words? Mick wasn’t in a charitable enough mood to help him out, so he waited.
Charles said, “I wondered… could you… talk to your mother for me? She won’t listen to anything I have to say.”
“Maybe you’re not saying the right things, Dad.”
After a long pause, Charles said, “Help me, son. What does she want?” Mick knew what those words had cost his father.
He awarded his father’s effort with honesty. “She wants peace in her family. She wants respect. She wants to feel like she’s got something to show for her forty-plus years of energy and commitment.”
“I’ve given her everything—house, car, clothes, vacations. Why isn’t that enough?”
Mick massaged his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Dad, it’s not about stuff. She wants to know she’s built something that will last, that no matter what happens, the family will still be there for each other. She wants to know she’s done something worthwhile.”
“I never said she wasn’t doing a good job. Raising a family is important.”
“Did you ever say that to her?”
“She knows.”
“Maybe she doesn’t. You and I haven’t been a very good tribute to her effort.”
When his father didn’t respond, Mick decided to lay it all out there. “It’s time you and I face some facts. We aren’t ever going to agree on most things. I’ve made changes in my life; you can accept them or not. Your disapproval doesn’t hurt me anymore. But all of this hostility between us is killing Mom.”
Without saying another word, Charles hung up the phone.
Mick’s grip on his phone tightened until his entire arm was shaking. “And that’s why you’re screwed.”
Mick went to bed without telling his mother about the call.
The next day, Mick made his usual drive-by of Caroline’s house. He couldn’t stay with her, and yet, he couldn’t stay away. It was a small comfort he allowed himself. He passed a city patrolman cruising by in the opposite direction. That was slightly reassuring.
As much as he hated himself for it, there was a small and selfish part of him that was glad they had not caught Kingery. Once the bastard was in custody, Mick would have no reason to call Caroline twice a day. Driving past her house multiple times would be considered stalking, not protecting.
When this was over, he’d need a valid reason to call Caroline. Maybe he’d leave his kitchen door open with the hope Rocky Raccoon would wander in. Heck, maybe he’d lay a trail of animal crackers to lure him in.
You’re becoming a sick bastard yourself, Mick Larsen.
When he got back home, his father’s black Lexus was parked behind his mother’s car. For a brief moment, he considered making himself scarce.
Then he realized his father was most likely badgering his mom to straighten up and come home like a good wife. He parked beside his dad’s car so it’d be easy for Charles to leave when Mick kicked his ass out.
When he burst through the kitchen door, he was overcome with a cloying odor he immediately associated with funeral homes. The kitchen was filled with a dozen huge flower bouquets.
“Mick,” his mother said, standing with teary eyes, “look.” She gestured around. “Your father sent a bouquet for every year of our marriage.”
Mick surmised the living room would be equally filled with flora.
His mother sounded victorious when she said, “We’ve talked more this afternoon than we have in the past five years.”
Charles remained seated at the table, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“He wants me to come home. And,” she added pointedly, “he wants to talk to you. I’ll just go upstairs and pack my things.” She left the kitchen.
Mick stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and nodded toward the flowers. “This is some grand gesture. Do you mean it?”
“Well, I can hardly have her thinking she’s failed, can I? She’s a good woman, a good mother.”
“Yes, she is.”
Charles stood, cleared his throat, then thrust his own hands into his pockets. “You’ll be home for Thanksgiving dinner?”
Mick knew that was as close to a peace offering as he’d get. He took it, for his mother’s sake. “Of course. We’re having a portrait made.”
With a nod,
Charles said, “I’ll go up and help your mother carry down her things.”
Mick hoped they were planning on taking the flowers with them.
Debra had a list of a thousand things to do. She was far behind schedule for Thanksgiving. It had to be special this year. Everybody except Johanna would be home. Charles and Mick were finally on speaking terms again. She and Charles… well, it wasn’t perfect, but they were on the right track. It wasn’t easy for an old dog like him to change. But, bless his heart, he was trying.
After finishing her shopping list, she picked up the phone and called Caroline Rogers.
“This is Debra Larsen. I just wanted to confirm our appointment for Thanksgiving Day.”
“Yes, I have it on my calendar. Four o’clock.”
“Well, about that. Mick and I thought it would be much better if y’all spent the day here.” She was only slightly stretching the truth. If Mick would talk about Caroline, that’s probably what would have happened.
When Caroline hesitated, Debra added, “He’ll be so much more relaxed if y’all are here with us. You know, he’s been staying up all hours. His dining room table is covered with maps and notes and police reports.”
Debra heard a concerned intake of breath. Maybe Caroline didn’t know how driven her son was to protect her.
After a moment Caroline answered, “We’d be pleased to share Thanksgiving dinner with your family. Thank you.”
When she hung up, Debra crossed two things off her “to-do” list. Portrait. Mick’s date.
Mick’s sisters shared the family traits, tall, blond, strikingly good-looking. Caroline felt like the black sheep slipping into the herd when she and Sam and Macie arrived for Thanksgiving dinner.
Elise introduced her husband, Bruce the Chief of Cardiology—as if that were his name. He appeared several years older than her, with silver hair and rimless glasses.
Kerstin, Caroline quickly deduced, was single. Charles made certain Caroline knew that Kerstin was one of the leading oncologists on the East Coast.
When Mick came in with an armload of firewood, his father moved the fireplace screen so he could put the logs on the fire. Caroline watched carefully. She didn’t know what she expected, maybe something like static electricity arcing between them. But they appeared relaxed and civil.
She didn’t really like the electricity that zinged through her own body. She hadn’t seen Mick in days. His eyes seemed bluer, his shoulders broader, his smile more sexy as he moved toward her.
When she heard Macie stifle a giggle, she realized she and Mick were standing there in the middle of a crowded living room just staring at one another.
Before either one of them spoke, the doorbell rang.
Mick’s grin widened and he called into the kitchen, “Mom, doorbell!”
Caroline frowned at him.
No one else in the room moved to answer the door. Did the godlike attitude come with the genes or the medical degrees?
The bell rang again.
Debra came hurrying down the hall from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Honestly, it seems like one of you could answer it.”
Caroline grumbled to Mick, “It does seem like one of you…”
Everyone got up and crowded near the door into the foyer, even Charles.
Mick put his hands on Caroline’s shoulders and turned her around.
As soon as the door opened, Debra screamed and threw her hands in the air.
Caroline leaned to look around all of those tall Larsen shoulders.
A little boy of about seven threw himself into Debra’s arms. “Grandma!”
Right behind the little boy was obviously another Larsen daughter.
Debra said around tears, “I thought you couldn’t get away.”
Johanna hugged her mother. “Mick said we were having a family portrait done and if I didn’t show up, I was out of the family for good.”
When Caroline looked up at Mick, his eyes were filled with pure joy.
She patted him on the back and whispered, “Well done.”
After dinner, Sam and Macie began to show signs of restlessness. Sam asked softly, “Are we free yet?” All the kids traditionally gathered at Ben’s in the late afternoon.
“You’ll have to come back and pick me up,” she whispered beneath the family conversations.
“I’ll take you home.” Mick had somehow slipped up behind her.
A chill swept down her neck at his nearness—something she’d thought she had under control. “That won’t be necessary.”
Mick leaned closer to her ear. “Afraid to be alone with me?”
Her spine stiffened. She said to Sam, “You two be home before too late.” Then she turned to Mick and whispered, “I’m not afraid of anything.” She walked away to set up her equipment for the portrait. She wasn’t some weak-kneed, starry-eyed woman with no self-control.
The portrait went well. Caroline was so swept up in the bustle of a family holiday, she forgot she was provoked with Mick. After they left the house and were in his truck, she said, “That was really nice.”
He started the truck and said, “It was, wasn’t it?” His grin warmed her heart. She told herself that was okay; it was those more carnal reactions she had to quell.
With a contented sigh, she said, “This was the first time in weeks that I’ve gone that long without thinging about this whole calendar business. It was a welcome break.”
He reached over and clasped her hand. “I wish you didn’t have to ever go back to that reality.”
“It won’t last forever. One way or the other, it’s going to be over.”
He surprised her by the violence of his movement as he took her by the shoulders. “Do not say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re giving up.”
She held his gaze steadily, realizing how resigned she must have sounded to draw such a strong reaction. She wasn’t resigned; she was tired of waiting.
“The police aren’t going to find him until he crawls out from whatever rock he’s hiding under to go after your house, Macie, or me. Isn’t there a way that we can make it on our terms?” she asked.
Mick sat quietly, his face lined with concentration. “If we knew he was watching you, maybe.”
Kingery wanted her to know how close he could get. He wanted to see her fear him. If only she hadn’t been so distracted by the chaos at the football game. “We don’t know what he looks like. He could be standing right in front of us—” In an instant, it snapped into place. “Mick, I saw him! I talked to him.”
“What? When?”
“At the battlefield. He was dressed as a Confederate reenactor. He offered to show me around.”
“What makes you think it was him?”
“Right age. Right height. Thin build. He had to be in uniform to get close enough to set off the limber, right? He has this bushy mustache”—she traced a line over her lip and down to frame her chin—“and scruffy beard. He didn’t smile. I might have recognized him if he’d smiled.” She tried to recall every detail. “He rolled his own cigarette. The last thing he said to me was that the reenactment was going to be exciting. Oh, why didn’t I make this connection sooner?”
“The only time it would have helped was if you’d recognized him while you were talking to him. The way he’s played this game, he most likely altered his appearance enough that he was certain you wouldn’t, not right away. That’s why he gave you that last little seed… the ‘going to be exciting’ comment.”
“God! I’m such an idiot.”
“I doubt he’s shown himself since. After speaking to you for that long, he knows how risky it would be to do it again.”
“But he watches me, to see how much he’s affected me, right?” She rushed on, “What if we present him with his perfect opportunity on December 1—force him to move when we want him to? We can have a trap ready and waiting.”
“If the bait in this trap is either you or your sister, forget it.”
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“Of course it won’t involve Macie. Mick, this is our chance to get the upper hand. You’ve already said I’m the ultimate target. He won’t stop until he’s finished this. Let’s make it on our terms. Let’s take the upper hand. Let’s reduce the risk.”
“The first is only six days away.”
“And we can’t have eyes on everything every minute of the entire month.”
Mick couldn’t argue with her logic. It was a decent plan. He just didn’t think he could stomach deliberately luring the bastard anywhere near Caroline, even if an entire SWAT team was protecting her.
What was the alternative? Keeping Macie safe was probably doable. That left waiting for Kingery to torch Mick’s house. If they didn’t catch him in the act, then that would leave Caroline with a big bull’s-eye on her back. And she was right; they had no idea when he’d decide to come after her—or how. Kingery had already proven he was willing to do things slowly, methodically. Eventually the police would move on to other cases, everyone would grow lax, and then…
Patient rage was a very, very dangerous thing.
“Let’s call Odell in the morning and lay this thing out.”
Convincing Detective Odell was surprisingly easy. By noon on Friday they had formulated a plan. Mick still didn’t like using Caroline as the bait, but he also knew the combination of her and the farmhouse in December would be impossible for Kingery to resist.
He pushed the possibility of failure out of his mind. The police tactical squad would be in place the night before, well concealed in the upstairs, the basement, and the barn. Backup would be ready to block the lane. Kingery had about as much chance of getting out of this trap as a snowball in hell.
What worried him the most was that Caroline was so excited about the whole thing. She’d thrown off her exhaustion, had grown more energized as they discussed the details of the plan. She’d gladly face risk head-on if she could be proactive, on the offense. It was hiding behind locked doors and alarm systems that had been most difficult for her.
Caroline vibrated with energy. She could barely wait for Wednesday. God, it was going to feel good to drag that man into a trap.
A Kiss in Winter Page 29