Another Man's Treasure

by Renee Roszel

  The possibility that he might never see her again filled him with a sharp desolation he had never experienced before, not even after the death of his parents. “No!” He bolted up, heading for the door. “It can’t be too late for us!”

  Detective Hefflet had just finished his call. He hung up the phone, grabbing Cotter’s arm. “You can’t go. You’re a civilian. Let us—”

  Cotter jerked out of the officer’s hold. “You do what you have to do, and so will I,” he growled, never looking back.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cotter knew exactly where the Fusco residence was. Hadn’t he himself suggested this area to Raine? He gritted his teeth in irritation, following Detective Hefflet’s unmarked car. He had made no concessions to the officer, and he didn’t plan to once they arrived at the Fusco residence. As they pulled past a large park, Detective Hefflet began to slow down. Cotter cursed at the delay, but then saw the need for reduced speed. The street had been blocked off from through traffic by a number of police cars.

  Hefflet pulled over, and Cotter followed. Tearing open his door, he was immediately beside the officer. A uniformed policeman tried to detain him, but when Hefflet saw that Cotter was going to protest mightily, he raised a halting hand, “All right—” he shook his head “—let him pass, Rogers. He’s with me.”

  As they moved toward the first row of cars, Detective Hefflet said, “This is as far as you go, Hunt. There’s nothing you can do, anyway, so stay low. We’ll do our best to get her out.”

  “No, I have to go in,” Cotter argued, bent on asserting his will.

  Hefflet turned, his face stern. “Listen, Hunt. I’ve already gone way over the edge for you. You aren’t going in. I promise you, if you set one foot beyond this point, I’ll put you in protective custody.” He looked down, pulling a gun from his shoulder holster. He then lifted a challenging brow toward Cotter. “That clear?”

  Cotter looked discouraged but said nothing.

  Someone with a bullhorn began to bellow to Cotter’s left, and he quickly turned toward the house. An almost imperceptible movement of the curtains brought his whole body to attention. The amplified voice of the police lieutenant was demanding that DeMosso throw down his weapon, let Fusco and the woman go and give himself up. When there was no immediate response, the demands were repeated. Cotter swallowed, and he offered a silent prayer that in the next moment he would see Raine walk out safely.

  The crack of gunfire dashed his hopes as DeMosso let go with his unquestionable answer. He intended to fight. Cotter raged, and Hefflet pulled him down behind the car. As several policemen returned fire, Cotter pressed a fist to his lips, stifling his urge to yell out to DeMosso, “Let her go, damn it! You owe us that.” He slammed his knuckles into the side of the car in helpless frustration.

  “Hey, man, take it easy.” Hefflet cautioned in a rough whisper.

  Cotter wrapped the throbbing fist with his other hand, growling, “What do you expect me to do? If she’s still alive in there, one of your cops could kill her with a stray—”

  An explosion tore through Cotter’s biting words, and both men jerked around to see the dark sedan burst into flames.

  “Looks like the gas tank got hit,” Hefflet shouted.

  Flames were lapping the sides of the car when Cotter heard a scream that seemed to be wrenched from the very depths of the dying car. Instantly, he knew it was Raine—knew she was in the burning vehicle.

  Bolting up, oblivious to danger, he grabbed Detective Heffler by a shoulder. “She’s in the trunk of DeMosso’s car! Get me a crowbar!” His harsh face loomed over the man as he delivered the order.

  “But—”

  “Get it!” Cotter pulled the officer up bodily. “Now!”

  It was a matter of seconds, but to Cotter, everything seemed to be moving in excruciatingly slow motion as the fire engulfed the car.

  The instant the cold metal of the crowbar touched his hand, he started forward in a run. The sweat that beaded his face made him feel cold, but as soon as he got within ten feet of the car, his skin was struck with intense heat. He winced but pursued his task, desperately working the crowbar under the trunk.

  His breathing was labored, and his heart was pounding like a wrecking ball against his ribs. It was not from the exertion of the run, he knew. But there was nothing he could do about the mindless terror that gripped him.

  Fire. Scorching, blistering, killing fire. Before his eyes, instead of the car, he saw the old white house trailer. It was burning as it had been the night his parents had died. Again he felt the horror he’d known then, hearing his mother’s screams as he’d carried Nordie, bundled in a blanket, from the inferno, and dragged a dazed Carl behind him. He relived his struggles, trying to run back in to rescue his mother and father, who were trapped behind a wall of flames in their bedroom, but being held back forcibly by two firemen. Their shouted warning came back to him in a rush. “No good, boy. Too late, too…late.” By then the screams had died away. His parents were gone. And he? Forever after that night, he’d been sure it had been his cowardice that had killed them.

  His brows formed a bridge of confusion over his eyes. Cowardice? No. He recalled it all now. He had tried to go back, tried to save his parents. It hadn’t been his fear, after all, that had kept him from going in. He shook his head at the long-lost memory, repressed beneath the panic and tragedy of that terrible night. It had been the firemen who’d held him, struggling and fighting with all his strength, kept him from going back into the trailer.

  Raine’s screams filled the air around him, shattering the haunting memory, and once again the dark sedan blazed before him. Without a second thought he rammed the blade of the crowbar below the trunk’s lock and jammed his body weight toward the ground.

  There was a screech of metal and a loud pop as the trunk flew open. Smoke billowed out, burning Cotter’s eyes as he reached in and scooped Raine into his arms and ran for cover toward the police car.

  A bullet whizzed past his shoulder, and he flinched at the deadly whisper of sound. Barely able to see, eyes stinging, he stumbled. Clutching her close to him, he struggled to right himself. Just as he did, he felt hands pulling her from him.

  “No!” he shouted. But even as he protested, she was lifted away, and he was dragged to safety behind the the police car and unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

  A white-hot ball of fire lit up the sky, yielding the terrifying sound of disintegrating metal. The sedan had exploded, sending flaming debris flying. Cotter could hear pieces of metal crash into the exposed side of the car they were huddled behind, and he scrambled to cover Raine’s body with his own.

  He heard her moan and felt her body quake as she coughed. “Oh, Cotter,” she rasped into his ear, “I thought—”

  He quieted her, his fingers brushing her lips lightly. “Don’t say it, Raine.” He kissed her sooty cheek and smiled, relieved to feel her heart beating against his chest. Her face was nothing more than a blur. Still, it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

  “TEAR GAS IS GOIN’ IN!”

  Raine lifted her gaze to the stranger who had spoken. She blinked several times to clear her vision. He was wearing a black suit and was crouched near her head. No doubt, a police detective. A uniformed officer, on the far side, was loading a gun.

  Cotter carefully rolled off her but continued to shield her body with his. One arm remained draped protectively across her chest. She was surprised to feel his hand tremble as he gently touched her side. “Do you think you can sit up?” he asked quietly, his voice soft and full of concern.

  “I—” She tried to rise but winced. “My hands are tied, Cotter.”

  His face hardened, and he lifted her gently to a sitting postion. “Lean on the car.” He took her hands in his. “I’ll get this untied.”

  She coughed again, her throat raw. Now she could feel the throbbing pain in her cheek where she’d rubbed and rubbed against the rough trunk carpet as she’d worked to dislodge her gag. After a
brief moment, her hands were free. When she moved them to her lap, a groan welled in her throat. Her muscles had cramped and gone stiff from being held in an unnatural position.

  “What is it?” Cotter asked, his voice tense with worry.

  “Nothing. Just a cramp in my arm.” She lifted tremulous lips in a small smile, looking up at his stern face. With her assurance, his features softened. Pulling her knees up, she began to unbuckle the belt that lashed them together.

  “Let me.” He covered her hands with his, halting her.

  She could do nothing but stare at his obvious emotion. His eyes were saying things to her that her heart didn’t dare believe. She loved him, but she feared she was reading something into his look of compassion that wasn’t there. Finally, she willed herself to move her head, nodding her acquiescence. As she rubbed her bruised wrists, Cotter tenderly unbuckled the leather belt that held her knees.

  “He’s coming out!” the black-suited detective informed them.

  Cotter tossed the belt away and moved up beside her, rising to look toward the house through the car’s rear window. Supported by his sturdy arm, she came shakily to her knees, squinting against the unaccustomed light.

  She gasped behind a trembling hand as she saw the blond man she had known as Ike Noonan stumble out, coughing and waving his hands.

  Cotter put an arm around her shoulder but said nothing.

  A flurry of activity and he was handcuffed, in the custody of several police officers. As he was led past Cotter and Raine he dragged his escorts to a halt and looked directly at Raine, his mouth twisting in an unreadable half smile.

  She met his gaze squarely, asking, “Did you kill him?”

  He snorted, shaking his head. “He beat me to it. Took pills last night, the coward.” He smiled knowingly. “Didn’t leave a note.”

  She breathed a sigh. “You couldn’t have done it anyway, Ike. You didn’t kill me.” She reached out to touch his sleeve. “You couldn’t have done it.”

  “Enough,” he barked, breaking eye contact. In a commanding tone he addressed the officers who held his arms. “Let’s get out of here. I want to call my wife.”

  COTTER PUSHED OPEN the front door of his house and stepped back to let Raine precede him. “We’re home,” he said, sounding subdued. He had been quiet ever since Paul DeMosso had given himself up, and she wondered why his mood had changed from an almost loving relief to this somber melancholy. She felt his hand slide around her shoulders in a protective gesture as Detective Hefflet entered.

  They all stopped short to see Nordie and her entourage of male students sitting expectantly, two to a step, on the curved staircase. Nordie leapt to her feet. “Thank goodness you’re all right!” She paused, her mouth gaping. “What happened to your faces?”

  Raine smiled. It hurt a little. She was sure that her rug-burned cheek and Cotter’s reddened skin made them a sight to behold. “We’re all right, really.”

  “Actually, we’re medium rare,” Cotter’s grin was twisted and didn’t reflect any happiness in his eyes.

  Raine explained. “The glow you see is from an antiseptic ointment.”

  “Oh. Good. I thought you’d been basted.” Nordie sagged, clutching the banister with relief. “That exploding car was all over the news—you two are famous. The ‘unidentified professor held hostage was rescued spectacularly—by her husband—just before the car exploded,” Nordie quoted, shaking her head and laughing nervously. “First media marriage on record. Congratulations.”

  Detective Hefflet broke in to explain, “The department wanted to protect your identities, but it doesn’t look like it’ll be necessary now. The word is, DeMosso’s working a deal. Last I heard, he had the cops in two states, and the feds in Washington, jumping through hoops doing his bidding.” He flicked his eyes from Cotter to Raine. “The man’s no fool. Looks like he may turn state’s evidence—and with what he knows, it’s my guess he’ll get whatever deal he asks for. New identity, for sure. He’s blown away, otherwise.” He shrugged. “DeMosso will talk, and while heads are rolling, he’ll disappear into federal protection.”

  Raine was surprised at this turn of events, and something deep inside of her blossomed in a vague sort of happiness. It was strange, considering what Paul DeMosso had put her through, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. A bit haltingly, she asked, “What about his family?”

  Detective Hefflet plugged his suit pockets with his hands. “I heard his wife and children have already been taken into protective custody. They’re moving fast. That’s a fact.”

  Raine sighed, feeling very tired. “Paul DeMosso may land on his feet in this thing after all.” She exhaled slowly. “I guess I don’t need to worry about him.” She gave Nordie and the young men a tired smile. “Right now, I’m just grateful to see everybody again. For a while, I didn’t know if I would.”

  Nordie clasped her hands together, looking pained. “Oh! I didn’t, either. You can’t believe how many of my sins passed before my eyes when I saw that car explode! I made a vow that if I ever saw you again, no matter into how much trouble it got me, I’d spill my guts to you about every nasty thing I’ve done!”

  Cotter interrupted quietly, “I don’t think she has the strength to hear about everything, Nordie.”

  She waved his argument aside, rushing on. “I can’t help it! Its guts-spilling time.” She cast a glance back at the quiet, waiting students, who were watching her expectantly. “And I want you all to hear this, too. Everyone should know what an awful person I am.” She clutched her blouse theatrically. “I, alone, decided to tell Professor Webber that Cotter was gay. And then I, alone, took it upon myself to tell Cotter that I’d told her that flagrant untruth. Naturally, he was furious with me, but because he loves me—even though I don’t deserve it—he didn’t give me away!”

  She looked pleadingly at Raine, who looked astonished. “I didn’t do it to hurt anybody. Actually, it was so you would notice Carl, and pay attention to him. Help him recover. I hope you understand.”

  When Raine didn’t answer immediately, she hurried on, “And then, when Anona showed up, it was my idea to say she was a psychiatrist. Not Cotter’s.” She put a supporting hand on Bill’s head as she gingerly nudged a knee between him and George and stepped down to the marble entry. Walking toward Raine, she added sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. It’s just my oddball sense of humor.” She swallowed, chewing on her lower lip. “I should have admitted it long ago, but I’m such a spoiled coward, I—I just—” she smiled weakly “—didn’t.” Looking pitiful and humble, she cast her eyes down and, with a tremor in her voice, whispered, “Fail me, professor. It’s all I deserve.”

  Cotter grunted. Squeezing Raine’s shoulder, he added sardonically, “Be careful. She’s damn good at this.”

  Nordie’s head bobbed up, her eyes flashing with spirit. “Cotter Hunt! I meant that. Every word came from my heart. I’m asking Professor Webber to forgive me. Don’t tease.”

  Raine lifted a hand to Nordie’s shoulder. “I believe you.” She shook her head. “You couldn’t make up such a story. You’re an imp, but I can’t be angry with you for long.” She dropped her hand and smiled at the younger woman. “You’re forgiven. And I won’t fail you.”

  When Nordie smiled, Cotter cautioned, “Don’t feel too smug, little sister. Tonight I saw her forgive a man who almost killed her.” Raine turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, but she thought she had sensed a certain tension in his words.

  “Well, in that case, did I mention that I also locked you two in the wine cellar and turned off the elect—”

  “Maybe you’d better quit while you’re ahead,” Cotter interrupted.

  Raine’s eyes flickered back to Nordie. Her mind was a jumble of new facts. With Nordie’s admission, she’d discovered that Cotter had been as much the victim in this as she. If only he hadn’t made love to her and then regretted it so completely. If only that could be as easily explained away as all the
other things.

  “Ahem.” Detective Hefflet cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Guess I’ll be going.” He nodded toward the group.

  Cotter’s arm slid from Raine’s shoulders as he moved to open the door. “Good night, Ray. And thanks for escorting us to and from the hospital.”

  “Hospital?” Nordie asked, her voice high.

  Cotter held up his left arm. A three-inch strip of gauze was wrapped around it just above the wrist. “I got a little more than medium rare in places.”

  Nordie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you about your mad dash into the flames. I thought you had a thing about fire. And here you go and pull Professor Webber out of a sizzling inferno a millisecond before it becomes a bomb with seat covers.” She crossed her arms. “How would you explain that? Temporary insanity?”

  Raine caught on the phrase “a thing about fires.” Yes, she remembered now. Cotter had told her once that he was afraid of fire. She’d forgotten all about it. She turned to look up at him, her expression inquiring.

  “Yes, well…” He inclined his head toward the stairs. “Why don’t you all go get ready for dinner. Raine and I have a lot to discuss.”

  Nordie’s grin was devilish. “What to discuss?”

  Cotter gave her a push. “My insanity.” He motioned to the boys. “A couple of you take her away—maybe to Boise, Idaho.”

  HE TOOK RAINE’S HAND and led her out onto the beach. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, and she breathed deeply. Though she tried to concentrate on the scenery, she couldn’t draw her mind away from Cotter. Feeling strangely nervous, she wondered why he had brought her out here. His resonant voice startled her now. “Why don’t you take off your shoes?” he suggested, sitting down on the sand and removing his suede oxfords and socks.