Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. Remember when he had his hand on that waitress’s butt? Why do you think I pointed it out?”

  “He said it was an accident,” she whispered.

  “Really? Like the time his hands were on the boobs of some bimbo he was dancing with?”

  “He was drunk.”

  Mel gave her a long look. “Why are you defending him?”

  Sara sat back and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t know. Habit, I guess. Dammit, he’s the one who left me.” She swallowed hard and tossed the daisy stem on the table. “I’m angry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  “How can I help?”

  The door chime sounded, and Sara groaned as she got to her feet. “I can’t do this right now. I’ll close the store.”

  Mel remembered the comment about the bills. “Take a break. I’ll help them.” She led Sara to the office door she’d seen next to the display of hiking boots. “I’ll let you know if I have any questions.” The fact that her sister went without complaint worried her.

  ****

  An hour later, Mel headed for the Cedar Valley Police Station. She wore socks, lightweight hiking boots, a white blouse, and a pair of khaki pants that unzipped at mid-thigh, converting them to shorts. She’d vetoed the red button-up blouse Sara loved in favor of her typical drab colors, but she hadn’t been able to resist the sporty aviator sunglasses. The clothes were charged to her new account at Last Chance.

  After Sara pulled herself together, she created an account and helped pick out the clothes. Sara also loaned Mel money from the till so she could buy enough gas to reach her bank in Bellevue.

  Mel had managed to avoid the cop shop for eighteen years, but she needed a copy of the accident report for the insurance company. Until they issued a check, she would be stuck with Alex’s piece of junk. When she stopped for gas, she discovered the tank was covered with a canning jar lid and two strips of duct tape. The engine was probably attached with baling wire and more duct tape. She’d seen a couple rolls on the floor behind her seat. The car’s days were numbered, and she didn’t want the hulking tank to die on her watch.

  In the daylight, she could see the concrete sidewalks on Main Street were now edged with bricks, which lent a prosperous air to downtown, but somehow felt foreign. The sign in the window at Dawson’s Dairy that announced strawberry cheesecake as the ice cream flavor of the week made her smile. That hadn’t changed. When she reached the last intersection, she was tempted to turn around and take another drive down Main Street, but if she could survive the events of last night, she could handle this.

  Sitting alone on the east edge of town, the gray block building housing Cedar Valley’s police force looked unfriendly and cold. The patches of sunlight skittering between the clouds seemed to dance away from it. There were no flowers, no shrubs, just a cracked concrete sidewalk edged with gravel. The parking lot contained two police cars.

  She took a deep breath, and told herself she hadn’t committed a crime in ten years. The instant she stepped inside, she realized her mistake. Lunch hour, and the secretary was out. Instead of the helpful woman she’d hoped for, a hard, unsmiling male face looked up. His square jaw and stocky neck topped a police uniform that outlined broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Something about him triggered an internal alarm.

  Mel slipped into her professional mode. “Good afternoon. I need to get a copy of an accident report.”

  The officer slapped a stack of multicolored papers on the scarred laminate counter without a word. She glanced at the nametag beneath the badge. Officer Stone. Great. Jordan’s brother Roger was a cop. The last time she’d been within ten feet of him, she’d been twelve and in Jordan’s bedroom. While most of the kids in high school barely noticed her, she’d often caught his measuring look. Even now, that direct gaze gave her goose bumps.

  “Returning to Cedar Valley, Miss Quinn?” His voice was even colder than his expression.

  “Looks that way.” Since he probably wanted to see her squirm, she gave him a cool smile and forced her body to move in a slow, even pace to the counter. She stared at the papers so she wouldn’t chance meeting his sub-arctic stare, picked them up and headed for the door. With a growing sense of relief, she reached the door, grabbed the handle and pulled. It flew open with no resistance, throwing her off balance. She staggered backward. Hands caught her wrists, and the next thing she knew, her body was pulled against a hard chest.

  Stunned, she looked up and saw Jordan’s dark eyes boring into hers. They simmered with emotion. Anger, she thought, if his clenched jaw and lowered brows meant anything.

  She should back away, apologize, and get the hell out of here, but her body wouldn’t move. The cool façade she’d put on for Roger disappeared as her heart thudded. Her breath came in quick little gasps, and she felt her muscles going lax. Pressed against Jordan, her breasts began to tingle. Warning bells shrieked in her head, but she didn’t care. A sense of recklessness took over, and she moved just enough to feel the shape of his muscles aligning with hers, just enough to test how they fit together. She intended to get as much of him as she could before he came to his senses and pushed her away.

  With their gazes still locked together, his hand slid down her spine to the small of her back and pressed her even closer. She could feel him growing hard, feel the pressure of him against her stomach. Lust flashed in his eyes like flames.

  Something crashed behind her, and she knew, without looking that Roger was on his feet. Her body went rigid, and she pushed away from Jordan before Roger could humiliate her. Without looking at either of them, she sidestepped around Jordan and escaped.

  When she’d driven a few blocks, well out of sight of the police station, she pulled to the side of the road and leaned her head against the steering wheel. Had it simply been a combination of testosterone, surprise and a willing female body that made him hold her so close? Her body throbbed with need, and she knew she’d have more than a few restless nights remembering the feel of his desire.

  What would have happened if Roger hadn’t been there?

  The thought of Roger chilled her. Despite the fact that he’d only talked to her once, when he found her in Jordan’s bedroom, and she’d avoided him during high school, he’d known her the instant she walked in the police station. She leaned back and exhaled. So what if he was a cop? She was clean, had been for years. As long as she didn’t break the law, he couldn’t do a damn thing.

  When her thoughts drifted to Jordan, she wondered if they’d ever touch like that again. Then she remembered the anger on his face and knew he was still out of her reach. Somehow, she’d force herself to keep her distance. It would be better, and easier, for both of them. And if desire tied her up in knots, she’d deal with it.

  She felt a strange sense of satisfaction, like she’d just passed a test. She’d make Cedar Valley her home, even with the Stone boys in residence. She might self-combust from an overload of lust, but she wouldn’t let anyone drive her away. Not this time.

  Chapter Five

  Jordan sat in the rafters of the unfinished bonus room and stapled the wire for the roughed-in light fixtures to the side of the truss. When he’d returned to Cedar Valley, he bought his aunt’s ancient farmhouse because he loved the place and remodeling it gave him something to do. The time-consuming project also gave him an excuse to decline the subtle—and not so subtle—come-ons. Not that he didn’t like women, he did. A lot. The sexy, delectable curves, the soft skin, those secret places, the whispers and moans. He hadn’t felt a spark for any of them since he’d moved back.

  Then his body went into meltdown when Melanie Quinn had been pressed against him. He scrubbed at his face. Hell, he’d forgotten where they were, forgotten everything except the waves of lust. Then she’d gone stiff and pale and ran out the door. Maybe he only imagined her softening, her body going pliant under his hands.

  Forget it, he told h
imself and replaced her image with mental pictures of the calls they’d gone on during the last few weeks, but all he could see was the first car fire, a result of a drunk driver, and the little girl in the back with bloodstains on her pajamas. Those three agonizing minutes it had taken to cut her out with the Jaws of Life. Would he have felt the same if it’d been Mel inside the car?

  Shit, there she was, back in his head.

  He jumped down, grabbed the pieces of 2x6 he’d cut earlier, and started nailing them in place. A few satisfying thwacks of his hammer, and the backing for the towel rack was in place. Twenty minutes later, sweat dripped down his forehead. He wiped it away and decided to finish the wiring after all.

  Back in the rafters, his mind wandered to the most recent car fire. He’d gone over the call a dozen times, tried to convince himself it was adrenaline, not desire he’d felt. It was the fire, which always heightened his senses and made him feel like he was living on the outside of his skin. He couldn’t afford to fall for a nut case like Mel. No matter how good she felt.

  When he realized she’d wormed her way into his head and given him another hard-on, he cranked up his CD player until Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” pounded in his blood and got back to work.

  The music stopped.

  “What the hell is this, a booby-trap?” Roger yelled.

  Jordan laughed when he saw his brother stretched out on a pile of 2x4s with his feet in the air, angry but unhurt. He could always count on Roger to pull him back to reality.

  “What gave you that idea?” Jordan swung down to help Roger to his feet.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to put your crap away?” Roger pushed an extension cord out of the way with his foot.

  “Why? I’d just have to get it out again.” Jordan took a swig from a water bottle he’d left on the workbench. “Help me get that wall in place.”

  “No.”

  Jordan laughed and tossed him the extra tool belt. “Give me ten minutes now, and I’ll find someone else to help me test the electrical.”

  “Only if I get the gun.” Roger strapped on the belt, and the two men heaved the eight-foot wide 2x4 frame into place. Jordan matched the chalk lines and balanced the wall while Roger used the nail-gun to attach it to the exterior wall and roofing truss. They stood back, and in identical gestures, tucked their thumbs into their tool belts.

  “Did Mom give you the lecture this morning?” Roger asked.

  “I didn’t give her the chance. I got there twenty minutes late.”

  Roger grinned. “She was hoping you’d finally tell her your future wife’s name. I gave her a few suggestions.”

  Jordan punched him in the arm. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “Right. Like that would work.” Roger switched to his big brother voice. “You were at that car fire last night.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jordan studied the wall, trying to envision it finished and painted.

  “Did the Quinn woman start putting the moves on you then?”

  “Moves?”

  “I’m not blind. A few more minutes at the station, and you two would have been screwing on the floor.”

  “Bullshit. I just kept her from hitting the ground. You would have done the same.”

  Roger shook his head. “I’ve got a bad feeling about that woman.”

  “You’ve always had a bad feeling about her.”

  “Only after we caught her in your room. I get the feeling she’s hiding something. Always has been.”

  Jordan looked at his brother. “So?”

  “She’s trouble.”

  Jordan shrugged and said nothing.

  ****

  That evening Melanie walked into her new living room and realized she forgot to lock the deadbolt she installed an hour earlier. Mick, her father, reclined on the couch with his thick black boots propped on the coffee table.

  She stared at him. In the ten years since she’d seen him, he’d changed. Gray peppered his dark hair; the lines on his face had deepened into trenches. A small beer-belly protruded under his T-shirt. The familiar whiff of cigarette smoke and Listerine drifted in the air. He stared at the muted TV, holding a remote she didn’t even know she had.

  “You’re—” She cleared her throat. “You’re here.” She hadn’t been in town for twenty-four hours and here he was.

  “What happened to your arm?”

  She glanced at the bandage visible beneath the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Burn. I thought you were in prison.”

  “I was.” He shrugged. “But I got out. I heard you were here and thought I’d stop by.”

  “No one told me you were in town.”

  “They don’t know. I haven’t seen the others yet. I want to surprise them. Hey, don’t tell ’em about my time in the slammer, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “I told ’em I was working on a cruise boat. It’s better this way.”

  Instinct warned her not to agree, so she changed the subject. “When are you leaving?”

  “Looking to get rid of me already?” He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a charming smile. He’d been a great father to her siblings. If not for his tendency toward burglary, booze, and blackmail, she might have even liked him.

  “Yes. Bad things happen when you’re around.”

  His smile disappeared. “That’s not much of a welcome after ten years.”

  “Did you expect something different?”

  “Hell, yes. The last time I saw you, I was fixin’ your ankle. Even stopped to buy an icepack and a bandage to wrap it up, and what kind of thanks do I get? I go out for a few minutes and you up and disappear.”

  She sat on the arm of the sofa and put her bare feet on the seat so she could face him. “I wouldn’t have needed the icepack if you hadn’t forced me to sneak into Reverend Ellis’s house. If you’d done your research, I wouldn’t have run into his Rottweiler and been forced to jump out the bathroom window.”

  He slapped a hand on his thigh and let out a laugh. “That was a good one. I thought you were going to land right on your head, but you’re as agile as an acrobat. Somehow you pulled it off.”

  “My zipper caught on the window and jerked me around, or I would have landed on my head.”

  “Those were the good ole’ days.” He let out a gusty sigh.

  “No, they weren’t. You lied to me so I’d steal for you. What’s good about that?”

  “Maybe I stretched the truth a bit, here and there, but only when I had to.” He nodded and looked at her with eyes full of warmth. “The first time you got busted, you were so scared you closed up like a clam. You wouldn’t cooperate. You wouldn’t listen. I did what any father worth his salt would do. I forced you to face your fear. Get it? If I hadn’t, you would’ve lived the rest of your life running from your own shadow.”

  “You talked me into robbing houses to face my fear? What kind of perverted logic is that?”

  “Think about it.” He laid an arm across the back of the couch. “If I’d called it quits right after you got busted, you wouldn’t have handled it as well as you did.”

  “It doesn’t matter. That part of my life is over.” She pushed herself off the couch and went to look out the window.

  “Only if you want it to be. I’ve got some deadbeats that still owe me. We could wait until the bandage comes off. What do you say?”

  “Those months in the slammer must have ruined your hearing. Those days are history. Over and done.” She made a flat cutting motion with her hand to signal the end. No one owed him anything. It was just another con.

  He shook his head and got to his feet. “Too bad. You were the best. A natural. You could make a name for yourself.” He stood and walked with his usual limping gait to the front door. “You and me together, kiddo. We could make a fortune if we do it right this time. You can get a new place, a new car…”

  “The only thing I’ll get is a prison sentence.”

  Mick shook his head “You’re too damn stubborn. Think about it. I’ll be back.”
He gave another look around at the rundown cabin and the junker outside. “It ain’t like that desk job of yours is keeping you in the lap of luxury.” He smiled and closed the door behind him.

  ****

  Mick had taught her to blend in by changing her hair, clothes, and demeanor to fit the situation. He taught her never to make eye contact, to disappear. Exactly what she no longer wanted to do. She prowled around the cabin, not really seeing any of it. She wasn’t in Cedar Valley to hide. She had an urge to run out the door screaming, “Here I am,” but no one would hear.

  She suddenly felt sick. Was that the reason for Mick’s visit, to prove he could bend her to his will, turn her into the girl no one else saw? Screw that. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

  She couldn’t find a parking place anywhere outside The Hungry Belly. The lot overflowed, cars were double-parked for two solid blocks, so she left the car triple parked. She stopped at the front door. Anna would be pissed she’d missed the action, but Mel needed to do this now, and she needed to do it alone.

  The first thing she noticed when she went inside was that the old movie star pinups on the big, two-story wall were gone, replaced with colorful chalk drawings. She knew, without looking at the signature, that the amazing eagle gliding over a depiction of Cedar Valley was Anna’s work. Why hadn’t Anna told her she’d graduated to such a scale? The drawing took the top half of the wall, a variety of doodles the bottom. Even now, after seven on a school night, three children sat on the floor, one drawing on the wall, the others playing tic-tac-toe with blue and purple chalk.

  Faces turned her way. Her skin started to itch. Maybe she couldn’t hear the rumors, but she could feel them. Movement in the open cooking area beyond the bar tugged at her senses, but she focused on the light fixtures hanging on long cables. The odd contraptions were made of upside down metal colanders with spoons, forks, serving utensils, and crystals hanging from the sides. They transformed a collection of mismatched kitchen gadgets into something new and unique, precisely why she’d always loved them.