Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  “Let me guess. It was a giant black SUV?”

  He grimaced. “She told me it looked kind of like mine.”

  “If only there’d been a traffic camera there or where he tried to run me down.”

  If only were two of the saddest words in the English language.

  “I’d like you to come home with me,” Jack said.

  Gabby reared back. “Now?”

  “No, I don’t expect you to leave right this minute, but I don’t want you at the hotel anymore. It’s not safe for you to come and go.”

  She blinked. “Then...what?”

  “My house.”

  Jack didn’t much like the way she scrutinized him, but he withstood her inspection.

  “I don’t suppose I have a lot of choices, do I?”

  “No.”

  After a moment, she nodded. “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me directions to your house and head home.”

  “No, but if you’ll give me your room key, I’ll go get your stuff from the hotel and check you out. I don’t want you going near that place.”

  Her teeth closed on her lower lip, but she nodded. It took him a minute to realize she was trying to tug her hands free. When he let go, she dug in her bag and handed him the room card. “I’m in 328.”

  “I remember. I’ll see you in about half an hour.”

  He hoped like hell her brother hurried to regain consciousness.

  * * *

  STILL SCARED, GABBY had finally agreed to go home with Jack. With Ric in Intensive Care, she was allowed to sit with him for only a few minutes an hour. Around ten o’clock, Jack put his foot down. Today had been enormously stressful. She was so tired, she wasn’t steady on her feet, he declared.

  Unfortunately, he was right. That didn’t keep her from feeling she was abandoning Ric, but in all honesty, with him still unconscious, her presence wasn’t doing him a speck of good. She wished he had a girlfriend who’d want to take shifts at the hospital, or that she knew who any of his best friends were.

  This time, Jack wouldn’t let her drive, although he promised to bring her back in the morning. Something in his expression made her wonder if she would see her rental car any time in the immediate future. He didn’t have to hint again that she might as well paint a target on herself if she walked out of the hospital and cut through the parking lot to the car. The shooting had been on the local news, with a promised update at ten o’clock. If the killer had thought for a minute she was down, too, he knew better now. He also knew where he could find her for the immediate future: the hospital.

  Maybe she should call the rental company and ask them to pick up the car.

  Gabby was weary enough not to object when Jack put his hands around her waist and lifted her up onto the seat before closing the door and going around to the driver side. However briefly the overhead light had been on, she’d seen enough to have her twisting to look back at the cargo space. There was her suitcase, tote and laptop case, but also...

  Jack saw what she was looking at. “Put on your seat belt. Yes, that’s the stuff you and Ric were going through. I’m taking it home so you and I can finish finding out what’s in those boxes.”

  Gabby pulled the seat belt over herself before saying, “You think there might be something in there that’s important.”

  He backed out, then shot her a glance she could see because the area right in front of the ER was brightly lit. “I do think that.”

  Her mind might be moving slowly, but it trudged determinedly on. “That’s why you went to the storage unit with us.”

  “Partly. I also wanted to be sure no one could get to you.”

  No wonder he’d parked the way he had, and paced out in the cold instead of joining them inside the unit.

  “Did you go through the stuff you were supposed to take to the dump?”

  “Some of it,” he admitted. “I didn’t unwrap the plastic around the artificial Christmas tree.”

  Despite the sheer awfulness of this day, the wry humor in his voice almost made her laugh. If only she didn’t like Jack so much.

  If only... But she didn’t let herself complete that wish.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Saturday afternoon, Ric groaned, rolled his head on the thin pillow, and opened his eyes.

  Gabby leaped to her feet from the hard plastic chair next to the hospital bed. “Ric!”

  He squinted at her. Worked his mouth a few times, then said, “Gab?”

  Had his mind shorted out halfway through her name, or did he remember the whole family calling her that because of her nonstop chatter?

  On the verge of tears, she smiled. “I’ve been scared for you.”

  “Why—?” He took in the room. “Hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  She saw the instant it came back to him.

  “Shot.”

  “Yes.” Gabby sniffed. “Because you got in the way of bullets intended for me.”

  “That’s...what...brothers...are...for.”

  “Who knew?” she said, almost lightly. “Your mouth is dry, isn’t it? I’d better let the nurse know you’re back with us. And Jack. He’s out in the waiting room. He hopes you saw something I didn’t.”

  “Wish.”

  She rushed out of the cubicle, which promptly filled with medical personnel. As soon as she emerged through the double doors, Jack closed his laptop and stood.

  “He’s awake?”

  “How did you know?”

  He grinned. “You’re glowing.”

  “It’s such a relief.” It had become habit to walk into his arms and draw strength from him. “The doctor is with him right now.”

  “Is he coherent?”

  “Yes.” She gave a teary smile. “He called me Gab.”

  His chest vibrated with a laugh beneath her cheek. “I’d forgotten that. We’d be pulling up to the house, and there you’d be waiting. He’d mumble, ‘Gab, Gab, Gab.’”

  “I haven’t heard that in so long.”

  “I’ll give them a few minutes, then ask to talk to him.”

  At the returning somberness, she straightened. “I don’t think he saw anything.”

  When she explained, Jack grimaced. “The guy was bound to have his face covered anyway.”

  Nearly fifteen minutes passed before a nurse came out to say that Detective Cowan could speak to Ric. Jack insisted on bringing Gabby, of course. He hadn’t left her alone in any public areas of the hospital all day, even though he must have better things to do than sit there.

  He and Ric clasped hands and held on. It turned out that Ric had seen more than she had, but only a large, black-clad figure and what he was sure was a gun.

  “Weird long barrel.”

  “Suppressor.”

  Ric nodded and winced.

  Jack updated him with what little they’d learned and told him that he and Gabby would go through the boxes in case their mother had left any clue to the reason for her murder.

  Ric looked at her. “Bet you’ve been here all day.”

  “Of course I have!”

  “You look like crap. Take a nap. My head is pounding. I’m going to take some of the good stuff—” he lifted the button that would send pain relief flooding through his body “—and sleep myself. Doctor said they wouldn’t transfer me to a regular room until morning.”

  “Fine. I don’t need to watch you sleep.” Gabby leaned over and kissed her brother’s stubbly cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He lifted the hand with the IV needle to her jaw. “Sister.”

  Jack steered her out, told the nurse they were leaving and made sure she had both their phone numbers, and escorted Gabby through the maze of corridors to the ER entrance. There, he stepped outside alone and studied the surroundings before waving her out to his SUV.

&n
bsp; Once they were driving, he said, “Part of me wants to start work on those boxes, but Ric’s right. You need a nap and a decent dinner.”

  “I can hold out.”

  He shook his head. “Not necessary. This evening or the morning will be soon enough.”

  Gabby didn’t argue. Last night, after barely managing to brush her teeth, she’d gone to bed in Jack’s guest room and plunged into a state more akin to unconsciousness than sleep. Unfortunately, she’d woken up four hours later and only drifted in and out of restless sleep the remainder of the night. Ric was right; when she’d looked in the mirror this morning, she’d made a face at herself. She did not look good.

  When they neared his house, Jack had her unfasten her seat belt and crouch down on the floorboards, just as he had last evening and again when they left for the hospital this morning. Not until they were in the garage and the door had descended did he tell her she could get up. She had yet to see the outside of his house, although she knew from the interior that it probably dated to the same era as the neighborhood where she’d grown up. This morning when she came downstairs, she’d discovered blinds were drawn so no one could see in—and she couldn’t look out at the porch or yard, either.

  The house couldn’t be more than half-furnished, but had beautifully refinished hardwood floors, fireplace mantel, moldings and some built-in bookcases and, in the dining room, an original built-in buffet. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t done more to make it feel like home.

  Now, though, she only trudged upstairs, visited the guest bathroom and flopped down on the bed.

  Laying her head on the pillow felt blissful. She pulled the quilt over herself and let the weariness wash over her, along with the memories of the day. Ric smiled. He kissed her cheek. He was going to be fine. She was smiling when she fell over the edge.

  * * *

  JACK FELT A little ragged, too, but he could sleep tonight. He frequently missed a night’s sleep in the urgent hours after a murder.

  When the quiet upstairs told him Gabby had gone to sleep, he went back to his research. He hadn’t lost his uneasiness where Sergeant Rutkowski and Chief Keller were concerned, but he’d backed off somewhat on his suspicion. Rutkowski’s suggestion that Gabby try hypnosis wasn’t something the killer would do.

  Except, Jack reminded himself, that two days later, there was an open attempt on her life. Rutkowski had to have known the psychologist wouldn’t be able to get Gabby in over a holiday weekend, giving him time to go on the attack.

  Would he have told Chief Keller what he’d suggested? Jack couldn’t think of a good way to ask, and wouldn’t have the chance until at least Monday anyway.

  Right now, Jack was intent on finding out what he could about a series of rapes that had occurred in the region back when Colleen had been in high school. Those rapes had been spread over five police jurisdictions and, as was too often the case, those agencies hadn’t communicated with each other. Not until near the end had anyone connected the crimes. None of those rapes had happened in Leclaire, four had been in the greater Spokane area, and one across the border in Idaho. Descriptions and MO suggested one man had committed all the crimes.

  All had been young girls, the youngest fifteen, the oldest twenty. Because so many women didn’t report rapes even now, Jack suspected the guy had raped more women. Unfortunately, none of the reported crimes had been date rapes, when the victim could have named her assailant. Instead, women alone at night had been grabbed from behind and dragged either into the bushes or the back of a van. The rapist had worn a face mask. All the victims said he was big. “Huge,” the fifteen-year-old had declared.

  Crime victims invariably described their assailants as larger than they actually were, so Jack took that with a grain of salt. Still, the description did jibe with his observation of the hotel security camera footage. There was no question the man who’d tried to get into Gabby’s room had been big—as tall as Jack’s six-foot-two, and possibly broader.

  Jack hunted down every scrap of information he could find on the long-ago rapes. What if this creep had also committed date rape, but intimidated or blackmailed his victims into keeping their mouths closed?

  About the time Colleen had become quieter and more mature, the rapes had either stopped or no more young women found the courage to report them. Plenty of rapes had still been investigated, of course, but none sounded as if they’d been committed by the same man.

  His mind took a logical, if disquieting, jump to the man who had left Leclaire not long after the last rape. Would it turn out there’d been similar rapes in Little Rock, Arkansas, during the years when Dean Keller had lived there? Trouble was, the only way he’d get the kind of details he needed was to call a detective there and ask him to delve into records. Explaining why he wanted them, though, that got touchy. They’d want a reason—and a name—before they committed to that kind of time. It wasn’t hard to imagine the request getting back to Keller.

  Goodbye, job.

  Deciding to think about it, Jack started dinner. He enjoyed cooking when he had the time, which was rare. Once the spicy vegetarian chili simmering on the stove started to smell good, he stuck corn bread in the oven.

  When Gabby appeared in the living room, he saw with approval that some of the strain had left her face and she’d obviously brushed her hair and braided it anew. The exhaustion and fear for her brother that she couldn’t hide had had the benefit of helping Jack rein in his physical response to her the last two days, but now he felt the familiar punch. He loved every one of her curves, that glorious hair, her pretty mouth and the sparkle of gold in otherwise green eyes. Yeah, and now he knew what she looked like naked. How she’d responded to his touch.

  If his voice was a little rough, he couldn’t help it. “You got some sleep?”

  “Yes, thank you. Something smells good.”

  “Should be ready.” In fact, by the time he’d set the table, the oven timer had gone off, and they sat down in the kitchen to eat.

  Gabby was very willing to continue going through the boxes, although she did say, “I wish Ric was here, in case I come across something meaningful to him.”

  “We won’t throw anything away immediately. Once he’s out of the hospital, he can take a look himself.”

  Later, when they’d finished dinner, Gabby sank down at one end of the sofa. He brought the first box to her, then joined her on the sofa close enough to look over her shoulder.

  “More clothes,” she said in disappointment. She was careful to lift every garment out of the box, however, and neatly fold it, restoring the piles to the box when she was done.

  The next carton held pieces of her and Ric’s childhoods: ratty stuffed animals, artwork sent home from elementary school, homemade Mother’s Day cards and report cards. Gabby laughed a few times, got teary, and finally closed it all back up. “I’ll want to keep some of this, and I’m sure Ric will, too.”

  She decided to go through the boxes of books later and decide what to keep. She admired two different sets of bookends, but put them back in the boxes for now. “I’ll keep those unless Ric wants them.”

  Jack had brought the jewelry chest Gabby had left sitting on the coffee table at Ric’s house. She did flip through the contents now, in case her mother had an unknown stash of valuable jewels. The only item of interest was a sterling silver charm bracelet that held only two charms, a tiny football and a book that hung open but looked like it might close.

  “Isn’t that strange?” Gabby murmured. “It’s so tarnished. Well, I guess it would be after twenty-five years.”

  Or forty years, Jack speculated. “Do you recognize it?” he asked.

  Gabby shook her head. “I doubt she’d have worn it, since it was only a...a starter bracelet. I mean, if Dad gave it to her, he’d have kept giving her charms, wouldn’t he?”

  “Yeah. And the book charm was obviously meant for her—y
ou said she liked to read—but your dad never played football, did he?”

  He bet Roger Rutkowski and Dean Keller had.

  Gabby shook her head. “Heavens, no! Dad was only five-foot-six, you know. Mom never wore heels, because she was already a bit taller than him.”

  Jack had prepared himself with evidence bags, and he had Gabby drop the bracelet into a small one. The tiny book was the only part with a smooth enough surface to conceivably hold even a partial fingerprint, but that could be enough to be helpful.

  Gabby looked askance, but didn’t ask why he wanted to keep it.

  The very last box held the treasure trove Jack had hoped for. Photo albums, a couple of high school yearbooks, two chocolate boxes repurposed to hold letters, notes and some loose photos. While Gabby started scanning the letters, Jack took Colleen’s freshman yearbook and flipped to a photo of the football team. Sure enough, there was a very young Rutkowski and—it took him a moment to recognize the other face—Dean Keller, too. Dean had been a freshman, big enough to play varsity instead of JV, Rutkowski a sophomore. Jack found Colleen’s freshman photo and recognized her smile as one that hid braces. He’d worn them himself, and hated every minute of it.

  Then he studied the two boys’ photos. Rutkowski had been homely even as a boy. Dean Keller had apparently always been handsome with an air of assurance not many kids that age possessed. As good-looking as he was, would he have bothered with a freshman girl with a mouthful of metal? Jack doubted it.

  A year later, though... He reached for the next yearbook, then realized it was from Colleen’s senior year. Maybe the other two were at the bottom of the box.

  “This is weird,” Gabby announced.