Kyle shook his head.
J.B. peeled a couple of paper towels off a roll and handed them to Zoe. "I'll take a look around. Don't beat him up while I'm not looking."
"It wouldn't make me feel any better." He nodded. "I know." He drew his pistol, a 9 mm SIG Sauer. She was
aware of how serious he was, the professional at work. She wasn't. Not here, not now. Not ever again. The realization hit her suddenly, hard. She saw now that she'd spent much of the past year disengaging from law enforcement, leaving behind that part of her life. She'd done her duty as best she could in Connecticut, but when she was finally fired, she was ready for it.
She just didn't know what came next.
Whatever had happened to him over the summer— whatever he'd had to do—J.B. still had the focus and the drive to do his job. As he moved into the front room, she could see that every fiber of him was tensed, committed to what he was doing. It didn't matter he was on vacation, or that he'd kissed her. Not at that moment.
"That guy," Kyle said, motioning toward J.B., managing a weak grin. "He's something, isn't he? The FBI stud. Bet the local cops are going to love finding a fed here."
"Kyle—"
"I didn't mean to leave you, Zoe. Honestly. I don't know, I thought Shelton was still sneaking around, and I figured if I ran and got help—"
"He was here when you arrived?"
Kyle stared down at the table.
"Damn. You slipped in here, didn't you? What were you doing, pawing around in the attic?"
"I didn't get that far." He still didn't look at her. He sounded almost contrite. "I was going up the attic stairs when I heard him. I didn't know who it was—I figured it was you or McGrath. I felt—" He broke off, and Zoe thought he might have sobbed. "I felt like such a lowlife. A weasel, like you said. I'm sorry."
"Did Shelton hear you?"
"Yeah. He must have. He yanked open the door and jerked me out like I was some kind of peeping Tom. Scared the hell out of me."
Zoe smiled and patted him on the shoulder with her uninjured hand. "Good."
He managed a smile. "You're a hard-ass, you know that? I thought getting fired might mellow you out, but no way."
"Oh, but you're wrong. If I'd been in top-cop form, kiddo, I'd have managed to break your fall, nail Teddy Shelton on the stairs and tie you both out on the rocks for the gulls to pick your bones clean."
"Come on. We're bigger than you."
"Size isn't everything."
He grinned at her, and she saw that he did, indeed, have a tear or two on his dark eyelashes. "Bet Special Agent J. B. McGrath would've kicked some ass. Man, I almost peed in my pants when he pulled over and hauled me into his goddamn Jeep."
Zoe laughed, although it wasn't easy to let go of her irritation with him. "How did he know something was wrong?"
"I don't know. Fed radar or something. I think he saw Shelton screaming out of here in your car. He asked if you were okay."
"You told him Teddy shot at me?"
"Yeah. He got all grim-looking. You cops." But he glanced nervously out the window when the Goose Harbor Police, the department Zoe's father had built, arrived. "Going to rat me out for trespassing?"
"No, of course not. That's a private matter."
"If Chris finds out—" "I'm not keeping secrets from my sister, Kyle."
J.B. returned from his cursory search of the house.He had his shield out, his gun holstered for when he greeted the locals. He glanced at Kyle. "Tell the police everything. No bullshit. Teddy Shelton shot at Zoe and stole her car. He's not a good guy."
Kyle licked his cut lip. "He could have killed her, but—"
"You shoot off a gun that way, anything can happen. I'm not arguing with you. I'm telling you what you need to do."
Kyle made a face but sank lower in his seat, and Zoe could see he was finally intimidated. It wasn't because J.B. was armed—it was his directness, his clarity of purpose.
She let the police in, including the acting chief, Donna Jacobs. "Nice homecoming," Donna said as she entered the kitchen. "Three break-ins in a row."
"I don't know if this one's related," Zoe said, then
stopped herself. "I guess you'll figure that out." "How's your hand? Does it need medical attention?" "A Band-Aid, but they're here somewhere. I'll be
fine. Thanks."
Zoe noticed that J.B. had backed off, letting Jacobs and her guys do their jobs. A deputy sat at the kitchen table and took Zoe's statement.
When the police finished, Acting Chief Jacobs gave Zoe a bit of simple advice. "Buy a lock for the porch door, get that wrist looked at and try to stay out of the line of fire. We'll let you know when we find your car."
"Thanks."
"And I'll be in touch with CID," Jacobs added. "They need to know what's going on."
When she left, Kyle seized the moment and slipped out with her. He'd given the police his corrected version of events. Zoe supposed now he wanted to get to Christina before her big sister did. Or maybe just get out of her house before he had to be alone with her and
J.B. again.
She sank onto a chair at the kitchen table. Her cut was throbbing now. She glanced at J.B., who'd given his own statement. Brief, unemotional, to the point. The professional. "I noticed Chief Jacobs didn't give you any advice," Zoe said.
"That's because I don't need any."
"If you're implying I went off half cocked—"
"I'm not implying anything." He got to his feet, his mood difficult to read. "Let's have a look at that cut. There's a first-aid kit here?"
"On top of the fridge."
He retrieved it, a shoebox that Betsy had stuffed with first-aid basics. He set it on the table and dug out a roll of gauze, tape, a gauze pad, scissors and antibiotic ointment. "I'm assuming you're not going to a doctor."
"I want to look for my car."
"Yeah. Your car. You'd love to find it with Teddy Shelton inside." He lifted her hand onto the table and unwrapped her makeshift bandage of paper towels and a dishcloth. "If I think you need stitches, you're going to the emergency room."
"You can handle it, Dr. McGrath."
He eyed her with just the barest hint of a smile. "Don't mind me touching you, do you?"
She felt herself flush at the sudden memory of his hands on her hips, her body pressed into him. "Awfully cocky, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "Some things are obvious."
He dumped the bloody cloth in the sink and dampened a fresh one, which he used to dab at her cut. She didn't pull back. He was gentle but unrelenting.
"See," she said, "it's not that bad."
"Ever been shot at?"
She shook her head. "First time. There were a lot of bombs and guns this summer in Connecticut, but none directed at me. You?"
"Yep. Shot at, knifed, kicked, bit. Well, one guy tried to kick me. He did not succeed."
"I've been drawn on," she said. "Lots of people have screamed at me. Maine's a low-crime state. Bluefield's a small town. Like I said, there were the bombs this summer—ouch."
"Sorry."
He set down the wet cloth and squirted on a dab of antibiotic ointment, using his finger to spread it over the cut. It stung, but more from the pressure than anything in the ointment itself.
He snipped off a length of gauze. "Did you tell yourself not to fall for anyone in law enforcement?"
"Never thought about it."
His look was disbelieving. "Right."
"My last date was with an organic farmer in Connecticut. Great guy. We went to a goat show together."
J.B. tore open the gauze pad, lifted her hand andplaced the pad on the wound, then wrapped it with the length of gauze he'd cut. He tied and taped his bandage. "There you go. Does it hurt?"
"It's throbbing, but it's okay."
He winked. "You tough Mainers."
"What about you?" she asked. "No law enforcement types in your romantic life?"
"I haven't had much time for romance in the last year."
> His tone was neutral, but she knew better. "Losing your father and barely surviving a dangerous undercover operation—that's a lot."
"Yep."
She could see he wasn't going to talk about it. "I'm not a cop anymore."
"I can see that. Otherwise you'd have had a gun."
"Not necessarily. If I was off duty, I wouldn't have had a gun. If I was still working in Connecticut, I couldn't just waltz into Maine—"
"All right. You win that point. Even if you'd been armed, Shelton still could have shot you."
"He shot at me," Zoe corrected. "It's the glass that hit me."
But J.B.'s teasing mood had ended, and with one finger he tilted her chin up, his eyes locking with hers. "I heard the shot. I saw Shelton scream off in your car, and I grabbed Kyle. He told me you weren't dead."
His intensity—his fear—unsettled her, and she tried to cut it with humor. "You knew I wasn't dead? Then why'd you come here? You should have followed my car!"
It didn't work. His intensity didn't ease. "Kyle had seen the blood from your cut." J.B. traced her lower lip with his thumb. "I'm glad you're okay."
Before she could even get her breath, he was back on his feet, collecting up the first-aid materials. He returned the box to its spot on top of the refrigerator, and Zoe, watching him, realized the kisses and touches, the awareness, weren't fleeting, meaningless, of the moment. She didn't know where they'd lead, or if they stemmed from their mutual need for distraction—J.B. because he was running from his bad memories, her because she was running from herself.
Coming home hadn't settled anything. If anything, it had triggered more questions, more problems, more danger.
She didn't like it. Something had to give.
"Do you think Teddy Shelton's responsible for the other break-ins?" she asked. "I'd suspect Kyle, too, but he doesn't need to break into the café or Chris's house."
J.B. leaned against the sink and smiled. "I suspecteveryone." He nodded at the window by the table. "Your pal Stick is here."
Zoe hadn't noticed him walking up the driveway. He knocked on the side door, but didn't wait for her to respond before he came in. "I heard what happened," Stick said. "Good Lord, Zoe. What can I do to help?" He glanced into the front room, shattered glass still all over the floor and dining room table. He paled visibly when he turned back to Zoe. "Christ in heaven. This is
getting out of hand."
"Kyle and I are both okay, Stick."
Behind her in the kitchen, J.B. dropped onto his chair and said nothing. Stick was her friend. This was her house. She supposed it was possible J.B. was acknowledging her role, but decided he was just playing the observer and keeping his own theories to himself.
Stick was clearly worried and shaken. She invited him to sit, but he shook his head. "Zoe, I don't know— I don't like how close you came to getting killed today."
"He wasn't trying to kill me."
"But he could have. You know that. Maybe you should consider asking for police protection until he's caught."
"I'll be fine. Don't worry, okay?"
She might not have spoken. Her old friend raked a hand through his thinning white hair. "Christina should have round-the-clock protection, too. Zoe, I'm serious. It's been quiet all year. Then these break-ins, and you show up—" He broke off. "I'm not blaming you, of course."
Zoe sank back against her chair. "I know that."
J.B. poured himself a glass of water at the sink. "Have you had anything to do with Teddy Shelton since he got to Goose Harbor?" he asked Stick.
"I've seen him around town. That's it. Why?"
"You'd think you'd want to keep an eye on a man you sentenced to seven years." J.B. leaned back against the sink again and drank his water. "At least you'd be curious about why he decided to come here."
Stick sighed. "I should have known you'd check. Yes, I sentenced Shelton. I was the judge at his trial. For a long time, I didn't make the connection—I just wasn't paying attention, I suppose. Then we ran into each other on the waterfront, and he seemed as surprised as I was."
"After Patrick West's death—"
"There's no connection between Teddy and Patrick. Don't try to make one."
J.B. set his water glass in the sink, his reaction difficult to read. "You didn't mention your connection to Teddy to the police?"
"No, why should I? He served his time. I'm retired. We're living in the same town. There's nothing more to make of it. If Shelton wanted revenge, he's had plenty of time—he's been here over a year." He shifted his gaze to Zoe and smiled, but she could see he hadn't liked J.B.'s questions. "I just wanted to check on you."
"Thanks. I don't know, Stick, maybe we're all on edge for no real reason. Kyle's so obsessed with his doc-umentary—he's managed to annoy me about it. He could have gotten under Teddy Shelton's skin and that's all this is."
"You mean he could have put Shelton on the defensive," Stick said, but shook his head. "You don't believe that."
It was true. She didn't. She glanced at J.B., but he'd thrown his stick of dynamite into the conversation and backed off.
Stick kissed her on the forehead, squeezing her uninjured hand. "This was too close, Zoe. Please be more careful." He shot J.B. an unfriendly look. "Where
were you?" "Obviously not here," J.B. said. "Obviously." Zoe watched Stick walk back down the driveway
and hated the idea that she worried her friends, that her old mentor had to hear that someone had shot at her. But she smiled at J.B. "Stick's hard on you because he's worried about me. You know that, don't you?"
"I know that's what you believe." He moved toward the door. "I had a talk with Betsy O'Keefe. That's where I was. She says Luke is concerned about your well-being and safety now that you're back in town. Another one. Something about his sense of loyalty to your great-aunt."
"Luke? Worrying about me? That's news." "Betsy says he doesn't want you to know." "Why not?" "He realizes you don't like him, but he doesn't care be
cause Olivia was so good to him and he feels he owes her." Zoe frowned. "Has he acted on this concern for me?" "Betsy wouldn't say." "But you have a guess, don't you?" "It's just a guess. Betsy isn't very good at deception,
but I think she's afraid Luke's in over his head and wants to keep him from getting in any deeper." He stood in the doorway to the entry, but Zoe knew not to misread his calm. "It's a fair bet Luke hired Teddy Shelton to keep an eye on you. Maybe me, too."
"Then what, Teddy sneaks into my house and shoots at me?"
A quirk of a smile. "I didn't say it was a smart move on Luke's part."
Zoe noticed a fresh drop of blood had seeped through her bandage. "Betsy won't want to mess things up with Luke. She's a good woman, J.B. She thinks less of herself than she should, and if she's found happiness with him—" She broke off, sighing, her hand throbbing. "That's a good thing. Olivia would be pleased."
"Betsy clearly loved her."
Zoe nodded, feeling her adrenaline rush wearing off. Her shoulder was throbbing now, too. "She invited us to dinner tonight— I can try to talk to her."
"Meanwhile," J.B. said, "do you want to stay here and sweep up glass, or do you want to go with me and look for your car?"
Twenty-Five
Luke and Kyle paced in the main salon like two angry bulls. Betsy had never seen them so furious with each other. She didn't think they were even aware of her. She sat as far down on the sectional sofa as she could but thought about slipping out to the afterdeck, except that might draw attention to herself.
"You should learn to mind your own goddamn business! I never asked for your help." Luke was clenching his fists, yelling, which he never did. "I've done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? Nothing."
"Oh, yeah. Sure." Kyle all but sneered at his father. "Get with the program, Pop. Teddy Shelton will turn you in before he goes down himself."
Luke went very still in that superior, intimidating way he had. "Turn me in for what?"
"Oh, fuck you," Kyle said, flouncing
off.
Luke started to charge after him, but Betsy jumped up and interceded, grabbing his hand. "Give him a chance to cool off," she said. "He's not making any sense. He's had a terrible scare and he's looking for
someone to lash out at."
"Why me? I'm his father—"
"That's why you." She smiled gently. "Once he's pulled himself together, he'll realize he was way off base and apologize. He'll understand that you hired Teddy because you were worried about Zoe."
"Zoe?" Luke sniffed, his skin clammy and gray as he extricated his hand from hers. "I don't give a damn about Zoe West. She can take care of herself. I'd hoped she wouldn't come back here."
Betsy was stricken. "Luke."
"Why so surprised? You don't like her."
"It's not that simple. I sometimes feel inadequate around her, but I don't know—no, I do know that's not her fault."
"Women," Luke muttered, dismissive. "I wanted to know if Zoe would try to link the break-ins at the café and her father's house—her sister's house now, I sup-pose—to his murder and start back on that again."
Betsy swallowed. "Oh."
He smirked, stepping back from her. "Betsy, you're so naive. You always want to think the best of people."
"You say that like it's contemptible."
"It can be, if it makes you willing to overlook the truth, if it blinds you to what's right in front of you." His voice was cold, his condescension palpable, but Betsy tried to tell herself it was a cover for his fears, his deeper emotions. "Do you think Zoe West cares about any of us?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"If we came between her and her father's killer? You, me. Kyle."
Betsy's knees went out from under her, but Luke didn't help her when she stumbled. She sank onto the sofa. "Luke!" Her voice was strangled, her heart skipping beats. "You can't think Kyle had anything to do with Patrick West's death?"
"Why not? He thinks I did."
Like it was a contest. Tit for tat. A game. You think the worst of me, I'll think the worst of you. Betsy tried to absorb what Luke was saying. "My God. You two have to talk. You have to get this straightened out."
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