Chapter Four
Visions of Becca hurt, bleeding or even dead filled his brain and left him unable to think or focus. This was the first time in twenty years he was functioning on the training he received rather than experience and instinct.
Experience had taught him never to let go of a target once you had it in your sight. His instincts told him that whoever was doing this was merely toying with her. Eventually playing with her would no longer be enough.
What felt like days later, he pulled up to the office building Becca had gone into earlier. He did a visual assessment of the area including people near building entrances and did not see the man whose picture had been burned into his head by Greg Sanders.
Getting out of the car, he walked inside only to find Becca in the lobby pacing with a worried look on her face. She always looked so together, in control and in charge that this look of anxiety on her face somehow made her vulnerable. She would hate that.
He waited for her to turn and see him before approaching any closer. When her eyes met his they suddenly swam with tears and the next moment she was in his arms.
Her entire body shook from fear or relief, he wasn’t sure which. He wanted her in his arms, had for months now, but this was not how he’d imagined finally getting this sweet little thing to let him in.
“The secretary said the man told her he was my husband and he wanted to know how long the meeting would last,” she whispered.
“He was just fishing… saying he was related just gave him authenticity and a reason for the questions,” he said against her hair.
Too soon she released her death grip and stepped back from him and immediately began straightening her skirt and blouse. Taking her hand he headed for the information desk and asked for the head of security, after showing some identification.
When the man finally appeared Dickie explained the situation briefly and stated that Detective Sanders would be calling and requesting any video recordings from the timeframe that she was in her meeting. The man appeared skeptical but he agreed to provide anything that would assist with the investigation.
After that Dickie called and left a voice mail message for Greg about the situation. Then turning to Becca he took her hand again and led her outside, once again assessing the area as he approached the car.
Leaving her on the sidewalk where he could see her, but yet blocked by the cars parked along the street, he opened the trunk and pulled out a crow bar that he had tied a handheld mirror to the end of. Angling the mirror he walked around the perimeter of the vehicle until satisfied that the car had not been tampered with. Then he put the crow bar back in the trunk.
He had only been inside the building with Becca for a few minutes but the man scaring her worked fast, so checking the car was necessary. How had the man tracked her so quickly?
Dickie grasped Becca’s elbow and escorted her to the passenger side and closed the door when she was seated. Then he got in the driver’s seat.
He felt her wall of silence almost as loudly as heard it. Her body language said it all… she was forcing herself to pull it together. Why did she not allow anyone to share her burdens?
He certainly had to unload on occasion… not often but sometimes even he fell apart or lost control. Usually a long conversation with Edna left him feeling better about the whole situation and more focused.
Becca was so tightly wrapped up in her own hurt that she was incapable of reaching out for help or comfort.
Dickie had dropped Gretchen back off earlier with Gran and then stopped by the shop to check phone messages and bring in the mail and take care of a few other loose ends. Those things could have waited… he shouldn’t have let Becca out of his sight.
He had let her agitation with him cloud his judgment. It was obvious she abhorred the idea of him following her around while she worked, but it was necessary. Apparently they hadn’t lost whoever was following them on the highway after all.
The ride back to his house was the longest one in history. She was once again firmly locked behind her wall of personal safety and appeared in control. What would it take for her to trust him enough to let him shoulder some of whatever bullshit was in that pretty little head of hers?
Upon entering the house she immediately headed for his room that she was now using. He wanted to follow her and demand that she talk to him but at the same time he didn’t want to add to the stress that made her shoulders sag. After hearing the door to his room close, he went into the kitchen and made a couple of sandwiches.
Eating lunch alone at his kitchen table, the silence continued. Normally solitude didn’t bother him but knowing she was here, where he had wanted her since the first time he’d seen her, but yet so far away, was hard to bear.
While he ate, he took a phone call about his neighbors and then decided she’d had enough time to come to terms with the events of the day. He picked up the plate with her sandwich on it and walked back the hallway. Knocking softly on the door, he got no response from within. This was yet another thing they would have to work on, along with not being out of his sight.
Knocking louder he said, “Becca? Answer me please.”
Nothing. Was she sleeping? He knew she hadn’t slept well the night before. He was a light sleeper, hearing anything that went on, and he had heard her restlessness. Listening at the door he could hear someone breathing just on the other side of it.
Dickie went on alert when he realized the heavy breathing seemed to be coming from too high up the doorway. Becca was shorter than him by more than a foot yet the breathing sounded from around his height.
“I’m coming in there if you don’t answer me, darlin’, so if you aren’t decent, now would be the time to say something,” he said.
A few seconds later she said, “I’m fine. I just want to be alone.”
Her voice sounded anxious and was far enough in the room that opening the door wouldn’t hit her, so taking a step back he kicked the door in with his foot. A large man stumbled backward and fell on his butt from the impact of the door.
His eyes scanned the stranger and noticed a gun lying right next to him that he must have dropped when he fell. The man made a grab for it and Dickie stomped the crease of the man’s arm to keep him from gaining access to the weapon.
The man cried out loudly and his hand went slack long enough for Dickie to grab the gun away from him. Seeing that he now brandished the weapon, the man sat up and scooted back with his hands raised. Pointing the gun at the man’s knee he pulled the trigger.
The explosion in such a small, confined space left a ringing in his ears. The sound was only matched in pitch by Becca’s scream that accompanied the man’s cries of pain. Dickie made his way to the corner of the bed and sat down on the edge, effectively blocking Becca’s view of the man and ensuring the stranger would have to go through him to get to her.
How could he have been so stupid… after the scare downtown he should have checked the house. Again, he’d let her being upset keep him from doing his job.
“You are an intruder in my home. If you move again I will kill you,” he said insistently. “Why are you in my house uninvited?”
The man could barely keep from moaning long enough to answer but eventually choked out, “He paid me to give her a message.”
“Who?” Dickie asked, nudging the man’s injured leg with his foot.
The man cried out again and gasped for air as he fought the pain. Dickie stood up and the stranger cringed.
“Start talking buddy. I’m going to call 9-1-1 and let them know I’ve shot an intruder. They will then ask me if you are dead or alive… the answer I give them depends on you, my friend. Now who?” Dickie said calmly.
“I don’t know his name but he came in the bar and gave me fifty bucks to break in and wait for her to return!” the man cried.
“What was the message?” Dickie asked.
“Changing locations doesn’t change the past,” the man said, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the image o
f Dickie standing over him with the gun.
“That was the message? Anything else?” he asked.
The man shook his head no and Dickie made his way to the phone while trying to avoid having to look at Becca. He noticed she’d been tied to the headboard with a length of standard rope and had been gagged by a pillowcase at one point which had been pulled down to allow her to respond moments ago.
She was fully dressed and did not appear to be hurt… just frightened.
He called 9-1-1 and explained about having shot an intruder in the leg. After hanging up he headed over to Becca. As he approached she shrank back from him and her reaction stung like a slap to the face.
Whatever progress he’d made with her was probably gone now… how could she trust him if he couldn’t keep her safe?
“Darlin,’ I’m just going to untie you,” he said, reaching down slowly and untying the rudimentary knot.
She quickly removed the gag and then scrambled off the bed and went to the far corner of the room, as far from the man as possible. Did she not realize that she was at least safe now? The man was injured and sorely lacking in fighting skills.
In light of earlier events he had messed up in not checking the house when they returned. He was beginning to doubt his own ability to keep her safe, anything having to do with her was a distraction. It was also time for him to start carrying a weapon again rather than relying on hand to hand to take care of problems.
“I’m going to take her out to the other room. If you so much as change positions, it will be the very last thing you do,” he said to the man and then slowly approached where Becca stood looking between him and the man.
He held his hand out to her. “Please, Becca, I need you to come with me,” he said.
After nearly a full minute she finally slipped her small hand in his. He closed his fingers protectively around her smaller ones and pulled her to him, tucking her head and face into his chest and turning her so that he was again between her and the stranger.
Slowly he guided her past where the man sat half upright looking pretty weak. He led her into the living room and she sat on the couch. Grabbing his leather jacket off the back of the recliner, he draped it around her, walked over and unlocked the front door and turned to head back down the hall.
“Don’t leave me, Dickie,” she said quietly. “Please…”
Though he should go and try to pry more information out of the man who lay bleeding in his bedroom, her quiet plea rooted him in place. Giving up the internal fight on whether his heart or his mind would win he walked over to her slowly and sat next to her.
Unbidden she leaned against him. Finally… something… a small sign that she was willing to share some of her burdens.
When the police arrived he invited them in without getting up from where Becca sat with her face pressed against his chest. Nothing would pry him away from her now that she had finally given him some sign that she trusted him.
He answered the officer’s questions and she did as well without ever releasing the grip she had on his shirt or lifting her head.
The man was taken to the hospital where he would be treated and then later charged. When the police finally left, he received a phone call from Edna on his cell phone.
After telling Edna what had happened she said, “Well, I am planning a dinner here tomorrow night. Hopefully she’ll be up to joining us by then.”
When he hung up the phone Becca moved away from him finally and, getting up, went into the bathroom. He walked into the bedroom and cleaned up the remnants of the sandwich and leaned the busted door against the far bedroom wall.
Then after hearing water running in the tub and figuring a hot bath was just what she needed, he went out to the garage. Finding his carpet knife and some plastic gloves, he headed back into the bedroom and cut out the portion of the carpet stained with the man’s blood.
He rolled the soiled carpet up, tied it off and placed it inside another trash bag. Then he brought in some scrap carpet to fit into the spot and glued it down. The carpet needed replaced anyways and since he would soon be remodeling the spare room he’d just splurge.
A knock at the front door had him back on full alert in an instant. Walking into the living room he peered out the window to find Carla Johnson on his front step with what looked like a covered dish in her hands. Opening the door, she smiled at him and raised the dish signifying it was for him as he moved back to let her enter.
“You didn’t have to do this…” he indicated the dish that she had since handed off to him.
“No, I wanted to. Edna called looking for Chuck who is out and about with Meredith somewhere. She told me what happened. I made way too much lasagna the other day and the boys are sick of it now that we’ve had it twice so I thought I’d bring you the other pan of it,” she said, looking around.
“She’s in the bath… still kind of shook up,” he said as he led Carla to the kitchen where he put the lasagna on the countertop.
“Well, I was planning to stop by and see her while she was in town anyways. I have some documents I was hoping she could take a look at for me…” Carla said, leaning against the kitchen cabinets.
“What documents?” Becca asked from the entrance to the kitchen.
Christ! She was wearing his robe. Though she meant nothing by it, he couldn’t help but imagine that it would now smell like her. Wearing his clothing… even his robe felt intimate.
“Oh no… you don’t need to do that right now… they’ll keep for a better time,” Carla smiled at her.
“No… please… I need the work. It will take my mind off… everything,” Becca nearly begged.
“Why don’t you two ladies let me pour you some tea and then go and have a seat in the living room while I heat up the lasagna you brought,” he offered, taking out two glasses from the cabinet.
Becca hated being needy and she hated being afraid even more. Thank God for Carla’s well timed distraction or she might actually have lost it. She followed Carla into the living room and sat down.
Carla smiled at her and said, “Are you sure about this…?”
“Yes, please… I need something else to focus on… think about, at least for a little while,” she replied.
“My late husband and I talked about getting life insurance… but that’s all we ever did… talk about it. Then suddenly it was a little too sorry… too late. I’ve finally been offered a full time job at the courthouse but I’m behind in my bills. I called the bank and asked about refinancing and they sent me this,” Carla said, handing her a letter she pulled out of her purse.
Scanning the document it appeared that Carla was more than a little behind and the bank was preparing to foreclose if the account was not brought up to date immediately. Carla looked anywhere but at her.
“I kept waiting for a settlement to come from the other guy’s insurance… unfortunately it looks like the bank is as tired of waiting as we are,” Carla offered by way of an explanation.
“Did you happen to bring any of the paperwork from your husband’s accident? If I could look through it I might be able to determine if a settlement has been or will be awarded to you, you could then borrow against the settlement depending on the amount,” she replied.
“I can’t make the payments even if I were able to borrow against the settlement and bring the account current,” Carla said, her voice shaking from the tears that were shining in her eyes.
“May I keep this?” she asked indicating the letter.
“Yes, any help you can give me would be greatly appreciated,” Carla said with a watery smile. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything to Chuck or Meredith either way.”
“I would never break the confidentiality of my clients,” she replied, patting Carla’s hand. “I’ll draft a letter on your behalf and see if the bank is willing to work with us.”
“Thank you,” Carla said sniffing.
Dickie cautiously made his way into the living room after a few minutes and sat ne
xt to her on the couch.
“So did you hear any more about your neighbor girls?” Carla asked him after collecting herself.
“Actually I got a call this afternoon before… from social services asking if I might be interested in taking in those two little girls. Can you believe that? I guess they are finally ready to take me up on my offer to keep them,” Dickie said smiling at Carla.
“I’m just not sure what took them so long. The social worker lady gave me a list of the requirements they have for the house and signed me up for some classes. I haven’t had time yet but I’m going to call Dana and ask her about being a foster parent,” he finished.
Becca could only stare at him. At this point nothing about him should shock her but somehow his latest bombshell did just that. Had Carmen James known it was him that Becca would be representing when she had asked her about it just this morning? Did he know what all this would likely entail?
“I should get going, the boys will be home soon and I need to get back,” Carla said standing. “I hope that things settle down for you and this latest trouble, along with the events at my house, doesn’t hinder you in getting those girls. They need a decent parental figure in their lives. Maybe it’s not too late to make a difference. What am I saying? It is never too late…Chuck is proof of that.”
Dickie walked Carla to the door and she laid the letter on the coffee table. Upon opening the front door Chuck stood there in the doorway.
“Oh Chuck!” Carla said. “I just dropped off the left over lasagna and was on my way home so I would be there for the boys.”
“You’re such a do-gooder, Carla,” Chuck said to her with a smile.
She smiled, patted his shoulder and then left once Chuck entered the house. Becca needed to talk to Dickie about all that he had shared with Carla. Standing up she approached the two men.
“Hey, Becca, I got the signed contract in the mail today from the attorney representing the art gallery. I also got some contract thing with it from Daniel with a potential sale price for one of my paintings. I guess he can sell my first painting for like a shit ton of money. I told him I had to talk it over with you first so when you get… better…” he said and then hesitated. “When you feel… better… let me know.”
Long Ride (Riding with Honor) Page 5