Through The Window

by Wendy Campbell

  “Thanks Jordan,” Sara said. “It’ll put my mind at ease. I couldn’t talk her into going to the clinic.”

  Numbly, Mel took the stool Jordan indicated. In her peripheral vision, everything blurred until all she could see were his hands reaching for her arm. Voices droned, but she couldn’t make out words, and she didn’t really care. She caught a faint scent of sweat mixed with soap, and a unique muskiness that made her mouth water. God, he smelled good. She even caught a trace of pine, and when she glanced down, she saw a few pine needles on top of his left boot.

  Then he touched her, gently pushing up the sleeve of her T-shirt in what felt like slow motion. Little tendrils of heat followed his fingers, and she bit her lip. She watched him reach for the white tape at the edge of her bandage. Slowly, his fingers moved back and forth, working the adhesive free from her skin.

  It didn’t take long for her to imagine his fingers somewhere else. A small sound escaped, more like a squeak than a moan, and she closed her eyes tight as she tried desperately to think of something else, anything else. But he was touching her skin, and she felt his body shift, felt the outside of his thigh move against her knee and stay there as he continued to touch her.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, so close to her ear that delicious shivers ran down her spine. “This tape doesn’t come off easily.” He worked it free, tormenting her with every touch.

  Finally, the tape came free with a sharp, little sting. “Ouch,” she said, more in surprise than pain. An instant later, she felt his hot breath on her arm and nearly fell off the stool.

  “Hold still,” he said, catching her arm below the elbow. “The sting will ease in a few seconds. Blowing on it helps.”

  He matched action to words, and she sat rock still, eyes squeezed shut, while her blood heated and her skin became super-sensitive. Was it her imagination, or was he dangerously close to her neck? Then his lips brushed over her ear and she did fly, right off the stool.

  He caught her arms until she got her balance, and watched her with an odd expression. “Sit down,” he gestured to the stool.

  Slowly, she sat.

  “Let me see.” Sara leaned over the counter to get a better look, as if nothing untoward had happened. Mel’s blood pounded, then kicked up even more when Jordan leaned close, turning her stool so Sara could see her burn. He put his other arm around Mel’s back and held her shoulder. Then he pressed against her, using his body to lean hers toward Sara.

  Oh, good God, he felt wonderful, hard and hot and sexy. How had she ended up caged in his arms, while they casually talked about burn ointment and dressings? Time seemed to stand still. Their words filled the room, and then she couldn’t help it. She simply melted against him, molding her body to his.

  Suddenly, he moved back, bracing her weight for just a second until she was sitting straight, then he leaned nonchalantly against the counter.

  “I hear you’re working in the new building going up on Westland Avenue,” Jordan said in a businesslike tone.

  “Isn’t it great?” Sara said, setting a drink on the counter. “Mel’s helping me here, too.”

  “Sounds like you’ll be busy.” Jordan picked up the cup. “Thanks for the drink, ladies.” The right side of Jordan’s lip rose, only now, instead of a crooked, boyish smile, it looked like a secret, sexy grin.

  Mel’s heart fluttered as he walked to the door. Sara cleared her throat, and Mel turned from the sight of Jordan’s butt.

  “Nice view,” Sara said with a grin. “Did you get the same vibe I did?”

  Mel narrowed her eyes and refused to look at the closed door. “What vibe?”

  “He wanted to ask you out. Couldn’t you tell when he gave you the look? And that was before he touched you.”

  “You mean when he went quiet and stared at me?”

  “Exactly.” Sara looked smug.

  “He was waiting for me to answer the question I forgot he asked.”

  “He likes you. Don’t think I missed seeing the sparks, which is another reason you should stay.”

  The door chime sounded and saved Mel from Sara’s matchmaking. She started unpacking the boxes and knew Sara couldn’t be right. This was Jordan, the same Jordan who’d found her in his bedroom, clutching his football jersey to her chest. Even sixteen years later, that wasn’t the kind of thing a person forgot.

  Chapter Nine

  That evening, Melanie walked out Sara’s back door into chaos. Music blared, at least a dozen kids played volleyball, and two dogs were trying to catch one Frisbee. She set the pasta salad on the picnic table and grinned. God, she’d missed this.

  “Look who showed up.” The easy cadence of Mick’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  Despite her uneasy feeling, Mel smiled. He sat on a wrought iron bench with his grandson on his knee, looking like the perfect grandpa.

  “Don’t forget this side.” He turned Eric’s strawberry ice-cream cone so the boy could catch the drips. Sara’s son looked just like her, complete with dimples.

  “Thanks, Papa.”

  “You’re welcome. Now scoot. I need to talk to your aunt.” Mick made a funny scowling face when Eric hesitated. “In private.”

  “Then you’ll have a water fight with us?” Carley asked as she skidded to a stop in front of them, water pistol in hand. Two girls about the same age ran up behind her.

  “You bet,” Mick said. “But if you get that big gun, I get two because I’m an old man.”

  “Hah.” Carley raced away, followed by Eric and the others.

  “Have a seat.” Mick patted the bench next to him and Mel sat. Right now, he didn’t seem like a cold, calculating criminal, just an old man playing with his grandkids. If he hadn’t paid her a visit, she would have thought his stint in prison had knocked some sense into him

  “How’s the arm?” he asked with a glance at her thin white bandage.

  “Better.”

  “Good. Hey, sorry for dropping in on you the other day. I didn’t mean to spook you.” He leaned back and watched the volleyball game. “I figured you of all people would appreciate the gesture.”

  “I didn’t, and I won’t forget to lock my front door again.”

  “Like that would stop me.”

  “You couldn’t pick a lock if your life depended on it.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged. “I’m thinking of going straight. Maybe get myself a job.”

  With her smile in place, Mel said, “Good luck.” He’d need it, unless blackmail and charm were the primary components of the job.

  “Smile.” Sara jumped in front of them and snapped a picture. “Perfect. Carley, come take a picture for me.” Sara sat on the other side of Mick. They all put their heads together for a picture.

  Three hours later, Mel was ready to break the camera. She hadn’t posed and smiled as much in ten years as she had that evening.

  “Sara’s going nuts because you and Dad have been gone for so long,” Alex explained as Mel pasted another smile on her face. They were washing dishes and Sara was outside, so she took the picture through the window.

  Alex dried his hands. “Anything that keeps her mind off Carl is good. I’m going out for another load.”

  Mel continued rinsing and drying as she listened to the commotion. Eric yelled something and ran after his German Shepard, who was in hot pursuit of Eric’s friend, Marcus, who waved a burnt hotdog above his head and ran, laughing like a maniac.

  It took a minute to sift through the sounds and pick up Alex’s voice. He must be on the bench right under the window.

  “Dad, you can’t let this go.” Alex’s voice was tight and clipped, a sure sign he was upset.

  “I don’t have a choice,” Mick said in a low voice. “Ed will get his due when the time comes.”

  “It’s not fair. He took it, and you won’t even confront him?”

  “What’s to confront? Lindkowski may have one like it. It’s not worth losing a friend over. Let it go, Alex.”

  “Gramps gave it
to you as a wedding present. Doesn’t that mean something? Lindkowski’s auctioning it off to the highest bidder.” Alex waited a beat. “It has the carved leaves, Dad, and the initials on the back.”

  Mel set the bowl she’d been drying on the counter. Alex must be talking about the violin Gramps had given her parents on their wedding day, the one he’d ordered especially for Mick, although she’d never seen Mick play it. Her mother had though, before she died.

  The thought of the violin in Ed Lindkowski’s house infuriated Mel. The first time she saw Lindkowski, his protruding eyeballs were staring at her over a box of Girl Scout cookies. Scared out of her wits, she’d dropped the box and ran. Too embarrassed to admit her stupidity, she’d raided her piggy bank and babysat the Wiley twins for two weeks to pay for them.

  “Well, now.” Mick let out a heavy sigh. “I hoped I’d just misplaced it. I woke up after hosting poker night, and it was gone.”

  “You didn’t lose it in the poker game did you?”

  “Hell, no. I bet with money. Always have, always will.”

  Despite Mick’s past, Mel believed him. Besides, he valued the violin too much to let it go. It was the only thing he’d refused to sell during those hard years after the divorce.

  “How are you going to get it back?” Alex sounded as if getting it back was the only option. “The bidding closes tomorrow night. If you don’t act soon, it’ll be too late.”

  Mick sighed. “Then this’ll be a lesson I learn the hard way. I’m leaving for Phoenix tomorrow. Don’t give me that look,” he snapped, “and no, I won’t stop by and see him because he’s not there. This is the weekend he goes fishing with his son-in-law.”

  Mick’s last comment clued her in. Damn him, damn him straight to hell. Couldn’t he just leave her alone?

  She scrubbed at a casserole dish. It was a setup. Just like the one he’d pulled her senior year of high school with Ralph Phillips, a wooden box, and her mom’s wedding ring. It started the same way, with Mick telling Alex that Ralph had taken the box and the ring.

  She’d fallen for it. Big time. He swore she was the only one who could get it back, and he gave her detailed instructions how to do it. When she pressed him for more information, he admitted taking the ring to sell so he could pay off a debt, but Ralph stole it.

  After Mel rinsed and dried her hands, she found Mick’s black jacket in the closet. In the pocket was a folded Puget Sound Energy envelope addressed to Edward Lindkowski. She tucked it in her back pocket and decided she’d be satisfied with nothing less than an outright confrontation.

  When Alex got taunted into a water fight with Eric, now with a plastic bag over his cast, Mel called out the window. “Sara, can you ask Mick to bring in the barbeque grill? I have a sink full of hot water. I’ll clean it now, and save you the trouble.”

  Sara waved in agreement, and a minute later Mick brought in the grill. Leaving him holding the grill, she took the envelope from her pocket.

  “Stealing mail is a federal offense.”

  “Who wants bills?” He shrugged. “Besides, you’re gonna give it back, so what’s the big deal?”

  “I’m done being your patsy. If you want something from Lindkowski, get it yourself.”

  Mick put the grill in the sink, got a beer from the fridge, and popped the top. He took a long swallow. “Can’t you spare one measly hour, for old time’s sake?”

  “Sure, I’ll meet you for lunch. I’ll help you wash your car, but I won’t help you steal.”

  “It’ll be a cinch if we do the mail bit.”

  “The mail bit?” She put her hands on her hips.

  “You know,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Jog by and pretend to find it in the street. Make a show of looking at it, ring the bell and see if anyone answers. I’m surprised you don’t remember.” He grinned. “You were very good at it.”

  “When I was a kid.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “His back patio door is an old slider. You should be able to lift it out of the track. If sitting on your ass all day’s turned you into a weakling, lie down, brace your feet on the glass and push up.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Bring a couple screwdrivers to put in the track, or you won’t be able to get both sides up at the same time. And for Pete’s sake, wipe your footprints off the glass. That was a serious blunder you made last time. You almost got caught.”

  The devil took control of her tongue. “Don’t you mean we almost got caught?”

  He chuckled. “Now this is the good part. Once you find it, and anything else of value the old coot stole, wrap it all up like a present, hop over the fence, and walk away. I’ll meet you on Silver Street.”

  Fury pounded through her, but she managed a quizzical look. “Let me get this straight. You want me to break into Lindkowski’s home, take everything I can find, and meet you three blocks away. I’ll give you the ‘present’ I’ve wrapped, and you drop me off at the cabin and go on your merry way. Oh, and this will be the last time. Is that it?”

  “You bet. Thanks, sweetheart. I knew I could count on you.”

  When he reached up to pat her cheek, she slapped his hand away. “Forget it, old man.” She stormed out the door, then stuck her head back in. “Make yourself useful and clean the grill for Sara.”

  ****

  Jordan leaned against the bar at The Hungry Belly and downed the rest of his beer. Watching Lyle systematically sink the pool balls—and beat him again—was too painful, so he turned his attention to the next table. Scotty Maylin, a few years Jordan’s junior, was a big-talking loser who’d sealed his fate when he gambled away his parents’ house the day after he inherited it. As far as Jordan knew, the guy still lived with his grandmother.

  “You think that’s good,” Scotty said to his opponent, an out-of-town redneck who talked non-stop about his sexual conquests. “This chick came back to town a few weeks ago. Talk about hot.” Scotty licked his finger and made a sizzling sound.

  Something caught his attention, and Jordan turned to watch Lyle put the butt of his pool cue on the floor and balance his weight on one foot while he stared at the table. Jordan tensed. Lyle never paused to study the table.

  “She was pure as new cream, let me tell you.” Scotty giggled, and then miscued. “Shit. Anyway, my setup would have made you keel over in amazement. Stole my dad’s binoculars and found just the place to watch her strip. Oh, baby, she was hot.”

  The redneck gave an appreciative laugh.

  “Hey, that was the olden days, ya know? Now I got a plan. I picked up one of them mini camera-things. When I get it set right, I’m going do a live feed, ya know, like on the Internet or something. It’ll be good. Put a few videos of Mel—”

  Scotty’s words ended abruptly as Lyle’s hands clamped around his throat. “Who?” Lyle asked in his slow, soft voice.

  Jordan’s blood pounded. It wouldn’t be fair to punch Scotty in the face with Lyle holding onto him. Scotty’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. After a minute, Jordan got up and tapped Lyle on the shoulder.

  “He might need to breathe,” Jordan said. Then he could take over and pulverize the weasel.

  Lyle opened his fingers just enough for Scotty to suck in air. “I sure hope you weren’t talking about the lady I think you were talking about.”

  “Mel—”

  Scotty’s words died off as Lyle again tightened his grip.

  The redneck set his cue down and sat at the bar to watch the action.

  “That wouldn’t be Melanie Quinn you’re planning on filming now, would it?” Lyle asked.

  At her name, Jordan’s stomach hitched again. A surge of protectiveness pulsed through him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  Scotty tried to shake his head, but it looked more like a nervous twitch.

  “I certainly hope not,” Lyle said. “I don’t want to hear another word about this. And if you even think about violating her privacy, I will know. Understand?”

&nb
sp; Scotty nodded. When Lyle released him, Scotty bolted out the door. Lyle picked up his pool cue and set up for a jump shot like nothing happened.

  Jordan’s fingers itched to take Scotty apart piece by piece, but Lyle had him running scared. While he didn’t get the satisfaction of taking care of Scotty himself, he had avoided a scene that would bring up questions about his connection with Melanie Quinn.

  So he took his seat at the bar and ordered another beer while Lyle cleared the table. Lyle and Mel had always been friends, but now Jordan wondered if something more ran between them.

  Chapter Ten

  Mel didn’t worry about the puffs of black smoke belching from the tailpipe of Alex’s car as she drove up the hill. The grinding noise under the floorboards, however, was a different matter. She prayed the wheels wouldn’t come off because her first Monday meeting with the Snake Charmer was in twenty minutes. Despite her nerves, she appreciated the sunlight filtering through the mix of leafy and evergreen trees, making big splashes of light and shade on the pavement. A few mailboxes sat next to the road, announcing long gravel driveways that led to snug little cabins.

  She parked in the Schuster lot next to an old Ford sedan and winced at the backfire from Alex’s car. On the other side, a green pickup nearly hid a shiny red Mercedes. The only sign of life was a dark-haired man pushing a hand truck with two large boxes through the open door.

  The crisp morning air cleared her head. She told herself not to worry about the destroyed files, or that Nicholas Barnett wanted an experienced Operations Manager, not a high-level analyst. She could do this job. The fact that the businesses of Cedar Valley might not be ready to trust her with their scariest—or any—HR issues was the stickler, but maybe she’d regain their trust before the Snake Charmer caught on.

  In the lobby, the smell of fresh sawdust tickled her nose. In the light shining through the windows, she could see dust motes settling on pieces of cardboard strewn about the floor. A thin man ignored her and cut open a box. A hefty guy with a beer belly used a nail gun to tack wood trim to the base of the wall. A thick orange hose disappeared down the hall.