Midnight Fear

by Leslie Tentler

  “We were,” she agreed, feeling a twinge of melancholy for all they had accomplished. The wind blew her hair across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear. “Look, Manny. I still owe you for your last two weeks of work. I can give you that now, as well as a little extra to help you get started somewhere else…”

  Manny looked crestfallen but didn’t argue. Caitlyn went back to the car to retrieve her purse and the Rambling Rose checkbook, which she had brought home with her so she could work on paying bills after dinner. As Manny waited, she wrote out a check on the car’s hood.

  “Have you replaced me yet?” he asked.

  “No, Manny. I have a feeling that’s going to be hard to do.”

  “Did the FBI tell you what I went to prison for?” He’d come a few steps closer as Caitlyn tore the check from the large blue binder. She realized that she should feel some trepidation, but Manny just didn’t provoke that reaction in her. She handed him the check.

  “They said you kidnapped someone. And that you were also convicted of assault and battery.”

  He peered at her unflinchingly. “I beat the hell out of my ex-wife’s boyfriend. I put him in the hospital—he was in critical condition for six days. I don’t regret it, either.”

  The fierceness of his words surprised her, considering his usually soft-spoken nature. “What did he do?”

  “He was hurting my six-year-old daughter, Maria. He broke her arm. My ex-wife covered for him, made up some story about Maria wrecking her bike. But I’d been seeing bruises on her for a while.” A shadow passed over his face, his jaw hardening. “The bastard was hitting her. But every time I asked questions, I got a load of bull. So when she came to me with her arm in a cast, I went crazy. I caught up to the son of a bitch in a bar parking lot, and then I took Maria out of there. I don’t call it kidnapping if it’s your own child.”

  “You didn’t have custody.”

  “No,” he admitted.

  “And you took her across the state line.” A federal offense, Caitlyn knew.

  He frowned, deepening the lines in his face. “I took her across three of ’em. We’d still be running if the police hadn’t pulled us over for a busted taillight. I got into some trouble for forgin’ checks, too, but we were broke and I had to keep my little girl fed and safe.”

  Empathy tugged at Caitlyn. Was she a fool to believe him? She hadn’t asked Reid for the details of Manny’s crimes, nor had he supplied them. Despite Manny’s lie of omission on his employment application, she still held her belief that he was an otherwise honest man—his story seemed too heartfelt to have been conjured up for her benefit. In addition, for more than a year he’d had full access to the Rambling Rose’s bank accounts and not a penny had been unaccounted for. Still, there had to have been a better way for him to help his daughter.

  “Manny,” she asked. “Couldn’t you have gotten the police involved, or Child Protective Services?”

  “I’m from a small town in South Texas,” he confided. “My ex-wife’s new boyfriend was the son of the town’s mayor. His family owned the biggest factory around. I tried to get custody, and I tried to go through the proper channels. All it got me was fired from my job. I handled things the only other way I knew how.”

  Caitlyn heard the raw frustration in his voice.

  “I have one more question. Did you know my brother?”

  He shook his head. “We never met, I swear. I knew who he was, but he was in maximum security. I was in genpop. I know it looks suspicious, considerin’ we were both at Springdale at the same time. But, Caitlyn, you have to know I would never hurt you.”

  “Where’s Maria now?”

  “Still with her mother, although the boyfriend’s been gone for some time.” Manny’s eyes saddened. “I sent Maria some letters after I got out of prison, but I never heard back. She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s thirteen. She’s probably embarrassed by her ex-con father.”

  Gazing across the lawn toward the low, stacked-stone wall, Caitlyn surveyed the acreage that made up her property. With the loss of fall leaves, she could just make out the Rambling Rose stables in the distance, including the big red barn with its high-pitched roof, paddocks and equestrian rings. She could also see the now-barren fields that in the summer grew organic vegetables that were sold to area restaurants. Manny had been a big part of the success she had managed so far.

  “Caitlyn, if you could find a way to forgive me, to overlook my past, I’d be forever grateful.” Manny’s voice was hoarse. He stared at the ground. “I don’t want to leave here.”

  Caitlyn released a small sigh.

  “I don’t want you to leave, either,” she admitted.

  “Just try to relax, Mr. Novak. This will take about forty-five minutes.”

  Reid lay on the conveyorlike table that moved him slowly into the core of the MRI machine. He’d had these screenings before; he knew the drill firsthand. And yet this time he felt a mild sense of panic as his head and shoulders were fed into the cavern’s maw.

  He’d had a few more headaches—the one last night severe enough to increase his anxiety over the routine scan, his last before being given a clean bill of health. Reid closed his eyes, pushing away the encroaching claustrophobia. The machine sounded like the inside of an engine, its loud knocks and pings increasing his discomfort. He realized his hands were clenched into fists and he uncurled his fingers as he willed his shallow breathing to deepen. This scan will be clean, just like the others. Relax.

  Desperate for something to distract him from the curved roof of the MRI cylinder, Reid concentrated on Caitlyn and her situation. An image of her delicate features and wide, green eyes appeared in his mind.

  Did she go down on you? Caitlyn’s got a real nice mouth.

  Cahill’s provoking statements at the prison had struck a raw nerve. It also confirmed that he thought of Caitlyn as no different from any of the women he had tortured and destroyed. What he wanted with her exactly, Reid wasn’t sure. But Cahill was a poison Caitlyn didn’t need in her life. He’d damaged her enough already.

  “Mr. Novak?”

  His thoughts faded, his focus returning to the confined space of his metal coffin.

  “I said, doing okay, Mr. Novak?” the female technician standing next to the machine repeated loudly enough to be heard above the mechanical roar. He could see only the lower portion of her floral-print smock through the open end of the cylinder.

  Reid worked to find his voice. “I’m fine.”

  He wondered if she could even hear him.

  Less than an hour later, he walked out of the MRI outpatient center. He’d been told the results would have to be interpreted by a neurologist, and that he would have them within a few business days. He had tried to get a read from the technician, but her face had been carefully composed, even blank.

  Her eyes had avoided his, however, and that worried him.

  16

  A dreary grayness pervaded the Saturday Caitlyn had set aside for household chores. She had taken several boxes of old clothing to a Middleburg church accepting donations, then gone grocery shopping to replenish her refrigerator and pantry. By late afternoon, she’d finished some light housecleaning and was just settling onto the couch with a cup of tea and a book when the doorbell rang.

  Peering through the front door’s beveled-glass pane, she felt a surge of surprise. Caitlyn disarmed the security system and smoothed her hair as she opened the door to Reid. He had on jeans and a dark Henley shirt under his leather jacket.

  “I thought I should check on you.” His gray eyes reflected concern.

  She tilted her head at him. “You could’ve just called.”

  “I did, actually. You didn’t answer and I got a little worried.”

  “Oh.” Caitlyn ran her hands over her upper arms. She wore a thick, cable-knit sweater and a pair of black riding pants. “I was out running errands earlier. My cell phone was in the charger in the kitchen.”

  “You really shouldn’t leave the hous
e without your cell, especially considering things lately.”

  “You’re right,” she acknowledged, sheepish. She opened the door wider to give him entrance.

  “I called the stables, too.” He followed her inside. “The voice mail said it closed at three. When I couldn’t reach you I decided to drive on out.”

  Caitlyn didn’t like feeling that she had caused him any trouble—she had certainly done enough of that lately. “I really am sorry. I’m sure you must have better things to do on a Saturday. But as long as you’re here, I’m having some tea. Would you like some?”

  Reid nodded. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  She left him in the living room, still a little puzzled about his visit. Certainly, if he was concerned for her welfare, he could have just contacted the Middleburg Police Department and had them send a squad car out for a safety check. Something else was bothering him, Caitlyn decided. It was evident in the tightness around his eyes and the hard set of his jaw.

  When she returned to the living room with a china teapot and a second cup, she found him studying a grouping of silver-framed photos on the bookshelf. They were pictures of Caitlyn with her parents, in happier times. The ones including Joshua she had long since banished to a box in the attic, unable to face his image staring back at her on a daily basis.

  “Where was this taken?” Reid asked. The snapshot was of Caitlyn with her father, both of them holding rifles as they stood side by side in a grassy field, a bright cerulean sky above them.

  “Just a few miles down the road, actually. A family friend had a summer home out here, and my father used to take Joshua and me skeet shooting. I never cared for hunting game, but I loved the excitement of hitting those clay disks.”

  Caitlyn studied his profile as he replaced the photo. “Reid, is everything all right?”

  He nodded, although his expression appeared shuttered. “Do you have anything in the gun safe upstairs besides shotguns?”

  “There are a couple of handguns, too. Why?”

  “I was on the way to the shooting range when I tried to reach you—my service gun’s in the car.” Reid slid his hands inside his pockets. “I’m going back to full duty soon. I need to requalify, and my exam’s Thursday. You mentioned there was a shooting range set up on the property?”

  Caitlyn looked past him out the window. The afternoon held a thick haze suggesting rain, but so far there hadn’t been as much as a drizzle.

  “It’s in the woods. We can go by horseback,” she told him. “It’s pretty basic compared to what you’re probably used to, but there’re some targets that were left by the previous owner.”

  “You should get a jacket. And a gun.”

  As their horses traveled alongside each other, Caitlyn pointed out areas of interest along the wooded trail. She showed him the soaring, broad-limbed oak that was well over a century old, and the waterwheel that was once part of a working gristmill. It now sat half-buried in a rushing stream, its spokes worn smooth by water and the passage of time. Around them, the air held a damp chill that made their breath fog as they talked. Reid looked comfortable on the muscular dun Caitlyn had chosen for him, his strong fingers grasping the reins with ease and his body acclimating to the horse’s easy canter. Her own horse, a dappled gray filly named Camilla, was more spirited than the other animal but Caitlyn guided her with a firm hand, keeping her under control.

  They reached the clearing where the targets were located. A row of thin, metal plates were strung from wire in front of raised mounds of dirt.

  “It’s not fancy,” Caitlyn said as she dismounted. “I’m sure the FBI offers better facilities.”

  “I prefer the fresh air.” Reid squinted at the targets, which were about forty yards out. He’d already climbed down from his horse. “Do you come out here often?”

  Caitlyn decided to tell him the truth. “Not until recently. But after what happened to Aggie and the break-in at my house I thought it might be time to brush up.”

  They walked the horses a good distance away from the shooting area, ground tying them. The filly snorted and tossed her head. Caitlyn stroked her muzzle and spoke softly, putting the animal at ease.

  “You gave me the tame one, didn’t you?”

  She grinned. “You’re a better rider than I thought you’d be.”

  He pulled his handgun from the saddlebag of his horse. “This is more my comfort zone.”

  They took turns shooting at the plates, their guns’ echoes reverberating like thunder along the hillside. Around them, the fall leaves were a cacophony of bright colors, burnt orange, sienna and golden brown. The air smelled of moist earth. Holding her own lightweight revolver in the proper safety position, Caitlyn watched Reid’s stance as he aimed and fired at his target, his bullets piercing the plates with sharp pops. Her stomach knotted as her mind traveled back in time to two years earlier, placing him in a cold, dilapidated factory building at the edge of the Potomac.

  “Have you ever shot anyone besides Joshua?” she asked quietly.

  Reid didn’t look at her, instead chambering another round. “I shot and killed a suspect who charged Agent Tierney with a knife. That was four years ago.”

  He aimed again, hitting his target in its center. Caitlyn moved to a lighter topic. “Well, the time away from the job doesn’t appear to have hurt your accuracy.”

  “Your turn,” Reid stated. He holstered his Glock in the clip he’d attached to his jeans. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Caitlyn moved forward, concentrating on not jerking the trigger. She hit the first one, but missed on the second attempt.

  “Line your hips with your target,” Reid instructed from behind her. His body brushed against her backside, his hands touching her waist to correct her alignment.

  Caitlyn fired again, missing.

  “You were shooting better before.”

  Lowering her gun, she turned to him. He remained close, and she found herself looking up into the masculine planes of his face. His gray eyes were intense, their color like liquid steel ringed with inky black. His thick eyelashes were of the same midnight-dark tint.

  “That’s because you’re making me nervous,” she complained, her voice sounding a little shaky and hoarse. Caitlyn’s eyes flicked to his mouth that had quirked up in a faint smile of amusement. There was no denying he was dead-on sexy. Compulsively, she licked her lips, her own mouth gone suddenly dry. Despite the coldness of the afternoon, the air felt heated around them.

  As he stared at her, Reid’s expression became serious, causing sensation to spiral inside her. He reached for her gun, slowly taking it and activating its safety. Then his free hand rose to touch her face, his thumb brushing across her full bottom lip. A fire raced through her. In the distance, she heard the soft whicker of one of the horses.

  “Caitlyn,” Reid whispered roughly.

  His lashes lowered as he bent his head and kissed her, his lips at once soft and firm on hers. Caitlyn grasped the open edges of his leather jacket, pulling him against her as their mouths melded together. She felt dazed, his kiss stirring a ravenous physical hunger.

  Their contact broke only when the sky opened, unleashing fat, heavy raindrops that were like pellets of ice on her flushed skin.

  “The mill house,” she told him in a breathless rush. “Leave the horses under the trees. They’ll be okay there.”

  Quickly gathering their belongings, Reid took Caitlyn’s hand and they made a run toward the frame of the old mill house located near the streambed. The building itself was gutted out, but what remained of its roof provided some shelter from the downpour. Winded, laughing, they reached its shadowed haven.

  “Are you cold?” he asked. His short, dark hair was spiky and soaked. He laid her gun and its carry bag on the ground.

  She felt herself shiver. “I’m freezing.”

  Reid chuffed her upper arms with his hands. “Maybe outdoor target practice wasn’t such a great idea.”

  His arms encircled her waist, pulling h
er into his heavy leather jacket, his body heat warming her. He felt hard and strong. Safe. For a short while, she rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the thudding of his heart. Then she looked up at him. Desire shone in his eyes. She pressed herself more fully to him, wanting to finish what they had started earlier.

  He seemed to understand. Reid’s mouth pressed against hers again, this time more demanding. Caitlyn felt his hands tangling in her wet hair as he tilted her head back, deepening their kiss, his tongue parrying with hers. Instinctively, she rubbed against him, thrilling at the male hardness she felt through his jeans. He could have her right here, she thought wildly. Damn the cold and the rain. Her body felt hot and strangled by the confines of her clothing. Caitlyn half groaned into his mouth as Reid’s fingers caressed her throat, her pulse pounding beneath his touch.

  “I want you,” she whispered against his lips. “I want you to…”

  Caitlyn froze at the shift of shadows. The onslaught had darkened the afternoon, deepening the gray haze. She gasped. The man with the pale, receding hairline—the man who had been following her—stood in the corner of the ramshackle structure. He was wet and dressed in nothing but a thin, sodden windbreaker and dark pants. Reid turned, his hand on the holstered gun at his waist. But the man was already a step ahead, the barrel of the gun he held pointed directly at them.

  “D-don’t move, Agent Novak.”

  17

  Reid took a subtle step forward, trying to place himself in front of Caitlyn.

  “I—I said don’t move!” The man appeared jittery. He remained in the shadows of the structure. Although Reid could barely make out his features, recognition tugged at him.

  “Let’s just relax,” he suggested, slowly lifting his palms to show he wasn’t going for his gun. “No one has to get hurt.”

  “Someone already got hurt.” The man’s voice was low and nearly inaudible, swallowed up in the pounding rain.

  “You’ve been following me,” Caitlyn said shakily. “What do you want?”