Marshall's Law

by Denise A. Agnew

  Dana sniffed. “He’s a weird bird.” She paused. “And mad as hell. Again. Have you given him a scan to see if he has high blood pressure? He looked about ready to bust a cork. He must have health problems with saving people from tornados, rescuing drowning boys, and interrogating suspected and obviously dangerous burglars.”

  Lucille grinned, her big smile warm and comforting. Most people might consider Aunt Lucille unusual, but Dana figured that’s why she understood her so well. They both ran into strange looks and uncomprehending stares on a regular basis.

  Aunt Lucille nodded. “I heard all about it.” She moved away to the window and glanced outside. “At least twice.”

  Dana sighed and shifted, groaning when her muscles protested. “This has been one long day.” Shadows encroached on the room. “What time is it?”

  “Five o’clock.”

  “Oh, man! I’ve been unconscious for that long?”

  “Now don’t get worked up. If Marshall comes back in here and sees you riled, he might worry.”

  “Come back here? Worry about me?” An alien concept like this made no sense to Dana. She made a grunting noise that sounded similar to Marshall’s trademark noise. “Hardly. He hates my guts.”

  Aunt Lucille turned away from the window and pursed her lips in thought. Multi-colored bracelets on each wrist jangled. “Drivel. You misinterpreted his mood, darling. Yes, he suspected you at first, as any good man of the law would have under the circumstances.”

  Dana had to give him that. “I suppose so. It doesn’t explain why he’s so cranky all the time.”

  Aunt Lucille gazed outside as if she’d decided to contemplate the heavens. “He gets like that when he’s mad. Or perplexed. Frustrated. Or in your case, all of the above.”

  “Great.” Dana sighed. “How did you find out I was in the hospital?”

  Lucille turned toward her again. “I called the police station when I realized your car was at the house, but you weren’t. Frankly, my dear, I thought the tornado might have sucked you up.”

  Rather than think about what had almost happened, Dana said, “It almost did. But it’s ludicrous to think Marshall is worried about me.” She glanced at the clock. “I’ve barely known him a day.”

  “I knew your uncle less than a week and I decided he was the one for me.”

  The insinuation made Dana twitch. “I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  The door swung open and in walked a man about thirty years old with startling silver-blond hair, and a smile that made him look like he’d escaped from a male beauty pageant.

  “Dr. Dawes.” Aunt Lucille beamed. “Thank goodness. Will you tell this girl to pipe down and relax? She’s going to give me an aneurysm.”

  Reaching for her wrist, the doctor winked at Dana. “Giving Aunt Lucille trouble?”

  If the man hadn’t been so incredibly good looking, Dana might have growled at him. “I’m not any trouble. Except when I’ve had a very bad day.”

  Dr. Dawes had a wicked twinkle in his blue eyes, one that probably sent women into heart failure on a regular basis. “That’s what Marshall tells me.”

  Aunt Lucille let her hands fly up again, and Dana wondered when one of those jangling bracelets would fly off and sail across the room. “She won’t listen. She’s jumpy as a rabbit in a cage.”

  “You would be, too, if a tornado had almost peeled your skin off,” Dana said. “Can I leave now, doctor?”

  “Afraid not. Besides the fact that Marshall would peel my skin off if I let you go, I don’t think it’s wise. You’ve already passed out twice today. I also understand you’re still recovering from pneumonia?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long ago did the pneumonia start?”

  “About four weeks ago. Maybe five. That’s why I’m on this vacation. My agent suggested I take leave or else.”

  She admitted to no one, least of all her worrywart mother, that she didn’t feel one hundred percent. Occasionally a nasty cough would rattle her frame, taking her breath and turning her a sickly shade of olive. Sometimes the spasms sent her running into the bathroom and she had to fight not to lose her last meal.

  The illness made it easy to explain why she couldn’t write more than chapter one of her new, as yet untitled horror novel. People might nod and say they understood, but she knew deep inside unless they’d had the same experience, they couldn’t comprehend her frustration. She had to take charge of her problem and she hoped a change in setting would do the trick.

  Dr. Dawes looked pensive. “You’re staying put until we make sure there aren’t complications.”

  “Where is Deputy Do Right anyway?” Dana asked.

  “I sent him to the cafeteria to get something to eat. I could hear his stomach growling clear across the hospital.” He chuckled. “He was wearing a hole in the floor and driving the nurses batty.”

  She could believe that.

  As he finished her examination, she noted several things about the man. Taller and thinner than Marshall, with the lanky build of a runner, Dr. Dawes possessed no animal magnetism whatsoever. Why she noticed this, she couldn’t say. Maybe she realized it because Marshall stirred hot, daring, and knee-buckling reactions deep inside her. That didn’t mean, of course, that she couldn’t force down dangerous impulses and keep away from Marshall. No need to complicate her already busy and screwed-up life with an incomprehensible interest in the man.

  After Dr. Dawes left, Aunt Lucille stayed until visiting hours ended. Kerrie also visited as soon as she heard Dana was in the hospital. Marshall, though, didn’t show his face again that evening.

  Dana didn’t like that. Not one bit.

  Chapter Five

  Dana couldn’t sleep. The hour grew late, and yet her mind sped along like she participated in a grand prix. Cozy under the blankets and quilt, she inhaled and commanded her body to relax from the toes up. She imagined a soft, green pasture with frolicking horses, floating butterflies, and the cheery music of birds.

  Fifteen minutes later she lay wide-awake.

  She’d had one day of recuperation at Aunt Lucille’s home. She’d tried working on a chapter of her book, but to no avail.

  Earlier that day a couple of older men from town, friends of Lucille’s, arrived to board up broken windows until they could be replaced. Dana didn’t overdo, but she helped a little. Dr. Dawes had told her that if she overworked he’d hear about it and send Marshall in to give her a difficult time. He’d said it with a teasing smile, and for that reason alone she didn’t believe him.

  “Besides, it’s not like Brennan Marshall gives a rat’s butt,” she said to the dark room.

  He hadn’t stopped by to see her at the hospital again, nor had she expected him to come to the house. Problem is, you kept hoping to see him all day yesterday and all day today. Didn’t you? Huh? Huh? Huh?

  “Yes, damn it.”

  But why?

  Wind fluttered through the closed drapes, and Dana realized the bedroom was chilled. Rather than huddle under the covers, she slipped out of bed and pushed back the curtains. Before she could close the window, she saw something move below and that jerked her into total awareness. Every hair on her body seemed to prickle and she froze. All her senses went on alert. Moisture-laden air floated by in foggy tendrils, and the breeze stayed so gentle she felt the slightest touch on her cheek. Moonbeams peeking between clouds gave the ground below an ethereal, eerie radiance. Dana held her breath as she looked out the open portion of the window. Scanning, she searched for any sign of human or animal. Then she saw it.

  A man scampered into the trees from the bushes alongside the house. Heart hammering, she called out. “Hey, you!”

  That’s it. Scare the bastard.

  She slammed the window, wondering if her screech had awakened her aunt. She hurried to the bedside table and picked up the phone. Her aunt had installed fancy cordless extensions all around the house that worked off a single telephone line. As she dialed 911 she wond
ered if all the doors and windows were closed. The 911 operator kept her on the line as she reported the prowler.

  Dana put on soft slippers, then headed out her bedroom door. As she crept along, Dana realized her heart rate had propelled into overdrive. I’m freaking crazy. What if he’s down here? No, he can’t be. I saw him outside and heading for the woods. She turned on the hall light and then the light high above the stairs.

  A bang echoed somewhere in the house, and she let out a gasp. “Jeez!”

  Scanning the staircase and what she could see of the foyer below, she started down.

  She reached the bottom of the steps when the operator came on the line again. “The sheriff’s office is being dispatched to your area, Miss Cummings.”

  Although the woman’s voice had a soothing cadence, Dana’s heart didn’t care; it banged against her ribcage in a panic she’d never experienced before.

  A few seconds later, Dana heard another peculiar sound coming from the basement. A groan? A soft moan? A gasp? Were the ghosts trying to have sex again? She went still as deadwood listening for a telltale sound. Another noise, like a woman in the throes of sweet passion, came to Dana’s ears. The next sound was louder, like a man striving to reach the finish line. The noises grew in volume until they were unmistakable.

  She blushed. Not that she’d never heard other people having sex before. In her first apartment, the people in the unit above her had done the nasty at least three times a week at full wail. She’d felt downright annoyed when the noise had escalated to bull elephant status. It perturbed her no end when people didn’t consider the racket they made.

  Especially when it seemed everyone was having sex except for her.

  “Oh boy.” Cold air rippled over her, and she jerked around, wondering where the breeze came from. She tiptoed toward the kitchen, turning on lights as she went.

  The 911 operator said, “Are you still there, ma’am?”

  Dana kept her voice at a whisper. “I heard something in the house.” She stopped at the kitchen entrance and scanned the area. She heard nothing but her own breathing. Zilch moved inside the room, though she speculated if someone hid behind the kitchen island.

  Determined not to succumb to total heebie-jeebies, she left the kitchen and went toward the front door. Her heart did a hop skip as she moved along slower than a snail.

  A shadow crossed the window coverings near the right side of the front door, and she let out a startled gasp.

  “Ma’am?” The operator asked.

  “I’m here.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “I saw a shadow move across the window—” Thump. “Oh, oh.”

  “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  “There was a thump against the door.”

  “Don’t open it unless it’s the police.”

  No shaving cream, Sherlock. Dana wanted to tell the operator she had more brains than a bag of cashews. Then again, the operator couldn’t know that. Crime programs on television regurgitated shows featuring dunce heads doing stupid things.

  Another bang hit the door, this time a steady knock, and Dana’s heart did a Roger Ramjet imitation. She stepped toward the door, the phone gripped tight and her throat as dry as sandpaper. Why hadn’t Aunt Lucille bought a door with a peephole in it? She snapped on the porch light.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Marshall. Are you all right?”

  Relief slid through her like sweet honey and she let out a thankful sigh. “Thank God.” Though she recognized his rough, husky voice, she had to double check. “How do I know it’s really you?”

  “Don’t you recognize my voice?”

  “Of course, but tell me something that only you and I could know.”

  “What?” The incredulous note in his voice amused her.

  “Miss, are you all right?” the woman’s voice on the telephone asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I think. Just let me make sure the guy outside is really Brennan Marshall.”

  “Dana, are you talking to someone in there?” Marshall’s voice sounded suspicious.

  She’d better open the door before he broke it down. Still…

  “Yeah, the 911 operator. Now what’s the password?”

  A couple of Marshall curses issued through the door. “All right. You’ve got a mole just under your right ear.”

  Warmth spread through her in waves of unexpected pleasure. He’d noticed that? Don’t get too excited, Dana. He might think it’s repulsive. One boyfriend she’d had asked her why she didn’t have it removed.

  No doubt about it. No other man in town knew she had a mole there. She slipped the chain loose, the deadbolt and the lock on the knob. “It’s the law, operator. Thanks for everything.”

  Dana clicked off the phone before the woman could make a sound. She opened the door.

  Marshall stood there dressed in all black. Stocking cap, turtleneck, jeans and boots. In one hand he held a slim flashlight, in the other a weapon.

  She allowed a sigh to escape and stepped back for him to come inside. As usual, his trademark scowl made him appear fierce and ready for a fight. He shut the door behind him, shoved the weapon in his holster and gripped her shoulders.

  Undeniable concern hardened his features. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. You got the call?”

  His forehead wrinkled a tad as he frowned. He released her. “What call?”

  “I called 911.”

  “I’m off duty. Is Lucille all right?”

  “She’s great so far as I know. I can’t believe this didn’t wake her up.” She explained what she’d seen and heard. “If 911 didn’t send you out, what are you doing here?”

  Before he could speak, a sheriff’s car rolled up with lights on but no siren.

  “What in goodness name is going on here?” Aunt Lucille’s voice came from the top of the stairs. “Marshall?”

  Aunt Lucille came downstairs clad in a blue chenille robe and fuzzy pink slippers.

  Dana explained about the figure she’d seen in the woods, and Marshall said it was him.

  The sheriff’s deputy, a rookie with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a teen boy on his first date, took copious notes. He seemed to cringe under Marshall’s everlasting glare.

  Dana wouldn’t admit it, but she’d rather have Marshall investigating the prowler than the rookie.

  “What are you doing here, sir?” the rookie asked when Dana had finished giving details.

  Marshall pinned his no nonsense frown on the younger man, and remained quiet for so long she thought he’d never answer. He cleared his throat. “I was on a stake-out in the woods around the house and saw some movement around the area.”

  “Oh, my,” Lucille said.

  “What did you see?” Dana asked, apprehension running through her.

  “I’m not sure. It might have been a deer. Maybe a bear.”

  “Oh, come on.” Dana crossed her arms and giving him her best cynical gaze. “You can’t tell me that a man who has lived in the woods as long as you doesn’t know the difference between a deer and a bear.”

  Tilting his head, he pinned her with a half weary, half surprised gaze. “Yeah, well, this time I didn’t see it clearly enough to be sure. And if it was a bear I sure wasn’t going after it.”

  With a nervous smile, she said, “Can’t say I blame you.”

  For a nanosecond his dark, penetrating gaze swept over her Big Bird T-shirt, down over her bare legs, and landed on her yellow ballet slippers. She thought she saw amusement, interest, and maybe a little lust ignite in his eyes. To her mortification she stared him down, knowing that he had to see how much she liked the idea. Damn and double damn and triple damn. I can’t let him think I want to jump his bones. I can’t. She jerked her gaze away.

  Marshall removed his stocking cap and his hair emerged in messy waves. One toss of his head and the miraculous strands went back into place. Figures. She put money into a good cut and hair products to achieve an
effortless look. He probably washed his hair, ran a comb through it, and grinned at the mirror. He cleared his throat, and Dana realized he’d caught her staring.

  “If you two are done, I think I’ll put a pot of coffee on,” Aunt Lucille said, a smile as wide as the Colorado River creasing her face.

  “Finished, Closky?” Marshall asked the young deputy.

  The deputy tipped his hat. “I’ll be patrolling the area.”

  “That’s comforting,” Dana said before she could stop herself.

  Deputy Dog smiled, his youthful appearance nothing next to Marshall’s clear, masculine authority. The rookie left, closing the door behind him.

  Marshall put his hands on his hips. “Will you ladies be all right?”

  Aunt Lucille patted his arm. “We’ll be fine. Thank you so much for looking out for us. Are you sure you don’t want coffee?”

  Marshall shook his head. “It’ll keep me up all night.”

  Aunt Lucille shrugged. “I won’t be able to sleep after this anyway.”

  His gaze traveled to Dana. “I need to speak to Dana. Alone.”

  Aunt Lucille headed to the kitchen, humming a happy tune like nothing unusual had happened.

  “What if something is out there?” Dana asked, hating to think about it. She shifted closer to him, as if his big, warm body could keep her safe.

  His gaze warmed, landing on her mouth and staying there for a lingering moment. “You’ll be all right.” He swallowed hard, and she watched his Adam’s apple move up and down. He inhaled deeply. “And I’ll be watching.”

  Intense and hot, his evaluation made her nerves feel raw. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. He moved a step closer, and Dana enjoyed that nearness all the way through her body. “Why did you come here in the first place?”

  “I was…worried.”

  “So you do believe Aunt Lucille.”

  He lowered his voice. “She might be an eccentric, but she’s not crazy. And neither are you.”

  Gratification swept though her. She hadn’t expected him to give her the benefit of the doubt, even if he did believe her aunt. “I heard those, uh, sounds tonight.”