"Thank you."
"I've called our crime scene unit out. She should be here in a few minutes. She'll check for prints on that door and the file cabinets."
Cassie nodded. She liked the brusque professional he'd become much better than the awestruck fan.
"And let me get that address, so we can keep an eye on the house."
"I'd appreciate that. I'd hate to have anything happen at my brother's house because of this."
"I'll put in for a patrol check on it," he said, writing down the address she gave him as they walked back into the outer office. "You're staying there?"
"Yes."
He glanced back at the office. "If this really was this man, and he was after that address, you might want to think about finding someplace else for a while. Just in case."
Cassie sucked in a breath; she didn't want to think about that, but she knew he was right. As Barker mumbled a polite goodbye, gave Dar a wary glance and left, Cassie sank down once more on Mrs. Stewart's chair. She avoided looking at Dar. She was afraid if she did he would see the fear in her eyes; somehow, having Deputy Barker take the threat seriously made it even more real. She was afraid. She had admitted that. But now there was more—now she was afraid that she had somehow brought this threat down on the people she loved most.
And that thought made her colder than anything else.
* * *
Chapter 6
«^»
Dar said nothing as they waited for Sean to return, although Cassie could feel his gaze on her. Her tension grew as the silence spun out. Finally she grasped at the most innocuous thing she could think of to ask.
"A purse snatcher?"
Dar let out a short breath that was almost a chuckle. "A would-be one, anyway."
She looked up at him then. "What happened?"
"Cassie," he began, shaking his head, clearly seeing her question as merely the distraction it was from what she had yet to deal with. But then, as if he understood her need for even a small respite, he answered her.
"Sean and I were outside a convenience store when this guy ran out. We heard a woman screaming inside, and the guy was carrying a purse." He gave her a crooked smile. "Didn't go with his outfit at all, so I figured it wasn't his."
Cassie smiled back, and that aching pressure eased a little more. "Maybe he just had no style sense."
Dar's smile became a grin, and she felt that shiver trace its way down her spine again.
"What he had was a severe lack of foot-eye coordination. He about ran into me, trying to look back and run at the same time. So I … sort of threw him over my shoulder."
Cassie blinked. "You what?"
"He was already moving pretty fast. It didn't take much, And there just happened to be a brick wall behind me."
She laughed. She couldn't help it; the image of Dar casually grabbing the fleeing thief and using that finely honed strength to send him flying was far too enjoyable.
"Deputy Barker shouldn't have worried," she said. And then wished she hadn't, when Dar went very still.
"No. He shouldn't have."
There wasn't a trace of inflection in the words, and the very absence of emotion chilled her. And suddenly there was something she dreaded even more than talking about her fears. But it was something even more important.
"Dar, he didn't even talk to you. He kept looking at Sean, or me. Does that happen…?"
"All the time." His voice was still flat, toneless. He gestured at his chair. "You want to become invisible? Sit in one of these."
"But Sean is—"
"Sean looks normal, in the eyes of the world. I don't."
Cassie felt a roiling nausea building in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what Dar confronted on a day-to-day basis.
"But how can they … be like that?"
He looked at her for a long moment, with that intensity that made her uncomfortable.
"Tell me, Cassie," he said softly, yet still flatly, "what did you think, after Sean's wedding, when you found out about me? I know Stevie told you."
She found it hard to meet his steady, assessing gaze, but knew she couldn't look away. Just as she knew she couldn't lie to him.
"I was … shocked." She paused, then steeled her nerve and went on. "No, that's not quite right. I was appalled. I felt awful, for what had happened to you."
"And it turned you off in a big hurry."
Her chin came up. She wasn't proud of this, but she wasn't going to deny it, either.
"Not exactly," she said. "But the … attraction I felt was—" she paused, searching for the right word "—overwhelmed, when Stevie told me about your legs. I got over it, but at first I found myself reassessing, retreating, because of it. I didn't think about it—it was an instinctive, gut-level response. And I didn't like it. Or myself, when I realized what I was doing."
She'd gotten some emotion out of him now. Surprise, then, amazingly, appreciation flickered in his eyes.
"Well, at least you're honest," he said.
"Honest? To be honest, I wanted to belt dear Deputy Barker."
Dar grimaced. "He's just typical. Most of the world thinks you haven't adjusted unless you look as much like them as possible. So they can at least pretend I'm not different than they are."
"Is that why you came to Sean's wedding … on your feet?"
His mouth twisted wryly. "I'm not sure why I did that. Sean never asked me to."
"Sean wouldn't."
"No, he wouldn't." Dar let out a long breath. "I guess I just didn't want to draw any attention away from them."
Cassie smiled then. "Trust me, Dar Cordell. You attract attention wherever you are. Standing or sitting."
He raised a brow at her. "Look who's talking. Speaking of which, what are you going to do now?"
Cassie felt the tension rush back. She knew she'd dodged the subject as long as she could. "Willis may be harmless, and this—" she gestured toward her brother's office "—might not even have been him, but I don't think I can take that chance."
"No," he agreed, then asked again, "so what are you going to do?"
She knew what she had to do; she'd known from the minute she'd seen what that file had been open to. She just hadn't wanted to admit it. She got to her feet, trying to hide the shaking that had again come over her by pacing.
"The deputy was right about that. I can't stay at Chase's house."
She turned at the front door and started back. She suddenly realized her left hand had curled into a fist, and she was pounding it against her thigh rather fervently. She made herself stop. When she looked again at Dar, he was watching her carefully.
"It's not just because I'm scared for me," she explained,
"I didn't think it was."
She began another crossing of the room. "I don't want my brother or his family, or Sean and Rory, caught up in this. They've all been through too much already."
"Yes. They have."
There wasn't a hint of blame in his voice, but she found herself reacting as if there had been. "I didn't mean for you to get involved, either. I just … I needed to talk to somebody, and you already knew, and you seemed to understand, and you didn't just pat me on the head and say everything would be all right—"
"Cassie."
She stopped pacing, hating the way she was trembling, but unable to stop it. She lifted her hands, staring at them, watching them shake.
"God, look at me. Some phone calls and a couple of letters, and I'm a basket case."
"And a burglary," Dar reminded her.
She tried to pull herself together, but her words still came out in a rush. "I'll have to go pack my things, and then decide where to go, and think up a reason to tell Chase I won't be there, and Sean, too. I just have to find my keys and then—"
"You shouldn't be driving anywhere right now."
She curled both hands up into tight little fists. "I have to. I can't not do anything. I can't just sit and wait for him to find me, or my family."
Dar was sile
nt for a moment, then let out a long, weary-sounding breath. "I'll drive you over to Chase's."
She looked up at him. He didn't look very happy about it, and she wondered if she'd misunderstood. "What?"
"I'll drive you over. You can pick up what you need and decide what you're going to do."
It was reluctant at best, and Cassie had to stop herself from making a biting retort. "I'll be fine," she said shortly.
"You shouldn't be driving, and you shouldn't be alone right now."
So much for Dar not telling people how to live their lives, she thought sourly. "That's a good one," she said. "You telling someone they shouldn't be alone. I thought you figured that was the cure for just about everything."
His jaw tightened, but his voice was level enough when he answered. "It's what I'm used to. You're not. I'll drive you."
"My car is here."
"We'll come back for it. After you've been away from this—" he indicated the broken window "—for a while. You'll be able to think more clearly."
She looked at him intently. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you doing this?"
Dar lowered his gaze. She waited, silently, willing him to answer, even if she wasn't certain she would like what she'd hear. At last he did, without looking at her.
"You're right. Your family's been through enough. They don't need to deal with this if it's not necessary."
"So caring is a two-way street, after all, Dar?" His head came up sharply, and Cassie held up a hand before he could deny it. "Never mind," she said with a sigh. "I know, you don't need anybody worrying about you."
"Right now, you're the one who needs—"
He broke off as a sound at the front door made her jump. Cassie let out a relieved breath when she saw it was Sean and a woman carrying what looked like an oddly shaped tool kit. The crime scene officer Deputy Barker had mentioned, she realized as Sean used his key to let them both in. She drew in a deep breath, trying yet again to steady herself.
The officer was blithely cheerful as she greeted them and then went about her business, saying that she was grateful to be starting her week with a simple burglary instead of the rather grim murder scene she'd had last week. Sean followed her in, carrying a quarter sheet of plywood, a hammer and a handful of nails. Dar wheeled out behind him and balanced the wood over the broken window as Sean began to nail it down. Cassie noticed he seemed to be rushing, and Dar apparently saw it, as well, for he gave him a questioning look.
"I need to get home," Sean explained. "Rory's really sick again, and I think she's starting to get scared about it."
"Go, then," Dar said. "I'll finish this." Sean looked at the height of the door, then at Dar. "I'll figure something out," Dar said wryly.
"It's not that. I know you will. But we came in your van, remember?"
"Take my car," Cassie said as she came up beside them., Sean turned his head to look at her. "Your car? How will you get home?"
Cassie's gaze flicked to Dar.
"I'll take her when we're done here," he said.
Sean looked from Dar to Cassie and back. Cassie didn't miss the glint of warning in Sean's eyes, and knew he was reminding her of his admonition.
"Go on home to Rory," Dar said, reaching for the hammer Sean held. After a second's hesitation, Sean surrendered it.
"Thanks," he said.
"If you need anything later…" Cassie began, then stopped as she realized she'd been about to tell Sean to call, when she wasn't at all sure where she'd be. But Sean thankfully just nodded as he took the keys she offered. She watched him go, envying Rory even as she worried about her.
* * *
Dar hammered home the final nail, then tested the sturdiness of the makeshift repair; it held solidly.
"It won't hold up to a crowbar, but it won't fall off, either," he said as he levered himself off the step stool Cassie had found in a storage closet and back into his chair. She'd steadied it for him without a word as he'd worked, balanced by a hand on the door and his remaining knee on the top step, and handed him the nails one by one as he needed them, again silently. She hadn't offered to do the job herself, although she couldn't help but have seen that she could have reached the top of the door with less effort than he.
In fact, Dar realized, she hadn't said a word since Sean had gone; even the crime scene investigator had received only a nod as she'd finished up and left. But she seemed calmer, and Dar wondered if she'd reached a decision.
She was, he had to admit, tougher than she looked. She was so beautiful, it was tempting to assume that there was nothing more to her than that, nothing beneath the perfect exterior. But he knew better than that now. And, he told himself ruefully, he should have known it all along. For she was also Chase's sister, and Chase was as solid as they came.
He gave her a quick, sideways glance. She was looking at Chase's office, but her gaze was unfocused, as if she weren't seeing anything at all. She didn't even turn when he wheeled over and shut the back door and locked it.
He knew she was shaken by what had happened. It made him admire even more her determination to handle it herself, her resolve to keep her family—all of it, even Sean and Rory, related only by marriage—safe from the threat he knew she felt was closing in on her.
He'd always envied Sean his family, and the power of the bonds between them, bonds that had begun between Sean and his sister Stevie and their parents—even their fussy, judgmental mother—and had expanded to include first Chase, then his family, and been strengthened extraordinarily by the birth of Katie and Jason. Now it included Rory, as well, and would expand yet again with the birth of their child. Expand, but not weaken; it was a family tried by fire, and a family that was all the stronger for it. Strong enough to—to a certain extent—include even him. On the fringes, anyway. Which was about all he could deal with.
Yes, he'd envied Sean the connection with his family, but he'd been wary of it, as well. It was unlike anything he'd ever known, and it had taken him a long time of watching Sean before he'd believed it was real.
And Cassie was a part of that family, too, had grown up knowing what it was like to be sure that no matter what happened, her family's love would always be there.
"Dar?"
Cassie's quiet inquiry jolted him out of his uncharacteristic introspection.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No," he said, thankful she had no way of knowing the crazy path his thoughts had wandered down. "Are you ready to go?"
"I want to put those files away now that she's done," Cassie said. "If I can do it without getting that black dust all over everything."
"I'll help you."
Together they managed it in just a few minutes, but Cassie's preoccupation was still evident. Even when he handed her back a file folder with the wry explanation that it went in the top cabinet drawer, she had merely taken it, murmured "sorry" and filed it herself without further comment.
I don't know what to say not to offend you.
Well, apparently she wasn't worried about that now, wasn't even thinking about it, and in the process had inadvertently found the best way to do exactly that—not offend him. He found he liked her slightly offhand manner; it felt good to know that she wasn't treading so carefully around him.
Why it felt good, when he'd up to now been working so hard to drive her away, was something he didn't care to analyze right now. He had other things to worry about. Like dealing with what to do next. And he told himself it was little enough to repay for all the Holts and Camerons had done for him, to look out for one of them for a while, when there was no one else to do it. There would be time enough later to go back to his preferred isolation; for the moment Cassie needed him, because there was no one else.
And that was the strangest feeling of all. True, she'd told him about Willis only because he'd prodded her into it, and she'd come to him afterward only because she didn't want to burden her family, but the end result was that now she needed him, simply because he
already knew, if nothing else. And it had been a very, very long time since he'd been needed by anyone. In fact, he wasn't sure he ever had been, really. At least not for any reason other than once he'd been able to run, field and hit a ball so hard it had a tendency to wind up in stadium parking lots.
When they had finished, she unlocked the front door so they could get out, then locked it again with the key Chase had given her. She had lapsed into silence once more, and it lasted until they got to his van and she suddenly seemed to realize where she was.
"You don't have to do that," she said when he went with her to the passenger side and unlocked and opened the door for her.
"Sean's been trying to teach me manners," he said dryly. "Maybe some of it took, after all."
"Oh. Thank you."
He shrugged. "It takes me a minute to get in, anyway."
It was a measure of her new seeming ease with him that she didn't react to that beyond a nod. By the time he was in and had the chair stowed away, Cassie was herself inside, had her seat belt fastened and was looking curiously into the back of the van.
"You've got a nice setup back there. Are those for your racing chairs?" she asked, indicating the racks festooned with tie downs at the back end of the van.
He nodded as he fastened his own seat belt. He did it automatically now, although there had been a time when he hadn't, not really caring if he survived any potential accident, in fact hoping that he wouldn't. He'd come a long way from those days, but he remembered them as if they were just last week.
"Is that a refrigerator?" Cassie asked.
He nodded. "And a camp stove. And a few other necessities of life."
Including the marine head he'd installed to save himself from the problem of finding a wheelchair-accessible rest room he could use when he was traveling during the race season, but he didn't point that out to her.
"You could practically live back there."
"I frequently do, when I'm racing," he said, then turned the key. The van's motor roared to life; that last tune-up he'd done had made a world of difference, he thought.
THE MORNING SIDE OF DAWN Page 8