“I know.” The smile dropped away, and his look became serious. “We need to talk about a few things.”
“Can we do that later?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to ruin…”
She slipped on her shoes. “Don’t want to ruin what?”
“Nothing. We’ll talk later.”
“Well, if it’s something serious, maybe we should talk now. You’re leaving tonight; I don’t want to spoil this afternoon either.” She looked up at him. “Three weeks is a long time.”
“You’ll have the dog.”
“Oh, great. Thanks.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Perhaps you’ll bond while I’m away.”
“Uh huh. Right.”
“Pedro will be moving into the motor home. He’ll be doing my job at the church until I get back.”
“Good. I’m glad Pastor Alan is letting him do that. He’s been sober for a while, and he needs the money.”
John said nothing while he fingered an errant curl next to her cheek. “I want you to do something for me.”
“Okay.”
“I want you to agree not to pick up hitchhikers while I’m gone.”
Mutiny shot through her, quick and deep. After everything else, he was bringing this up? “I can’t believe you’re asking this now.”
“I’ll be leaving in a few hours. I have to ask now.”
“You know this is part of what I do.”
“And you know I think it’s dangerous. For the three weeks I’m gone, do this for me, will you?”
“Did you and Janice ever disagree?”
He frowned, the surprise showing. “Of course, we did.”
“Did you always get your way?”
“You know better than that. We did what she wanted most of the time.”
“And you won’t do that for me?”
His mouth tightened; a muscle jumped in his jaw. He took a moment to speak. “I’m trying these days to be the type of husband I should have been then. Do you really want me to stand by and say nothing when I feel what you’re doing is wrong and dangerous?”
She put her hands on her hips. God always protected her. Couldn’t he see that?
“Sharee.”
“I don’t agree. You know that.”
They stood looking at each other. He fingered the curl again. “You think I’m being over-protective, but, in this case, I don’t believe that’s true.”
She took a long breath. Lord, give me grace here. “I’ll do it because you ask. Although, how I’ll drive by someone on the side of the road that needs help, I don’t know.”
“Can’t you make up those bags we’ve talked about? Put a clean T-shirt, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, crackers, whatever else you think of, into a gallon zip-lock bag.”
She nodded.
His face relaxed. “And keep your doors locked.”
“What?”
“If you stop to give them one of the bags, keep your doors locked.”
She threw her hands up. “That’s ridiculous. You want me to act like I’m scared of them?” She whirled, grabbed her purse, and walked toward the front door.
“Sharee.”
She stopped but didn’t turn.
“It’s just till I get back, until we’ve prayed and come to agreement on it.”
After this long, would they ever agree? She jerked her head in assent but shoved the door open and left.
***
Sharee sat at her desk, hands steepled in front of her. Why had he asked? Besides the dog, their only continuing disagreement involved her habit of picking up hitchhikers. She always took care, always prayed. Why didn’t he understand that?
She rubbed a tear away with the back of her hand. He was leaving. Just that thought created a void in her stomach. She did not want to fight about anything. Her head dropped—and she couldn’t tell him about the baby.
Her throat tightened. She had work to do. She couldn’t cry, but her mouth twisted. We were so close the other night. Why didn’t I tell him then? How could I have fallen asleep?
She brought her folded hands upward and bent her head over them. Lord, you didn’t want him to know, did you? It would put a stumbling block in his way. He’d go, but his mind would be on me and the baby, wouldn’t it?
Straightening in her chair, she pulled the paperwork toward her. She wouldn’t add any burden or distraction to what he and Bob would do over there.
Lord, help those people. Help the people of Indonesia dig out of the rubble, build new homes, bring them helpers and things they need like water, food and housing. Show your love through your people, through John and Bob and all the others rushing to help.
She sighed, the burden lifting, and she began to work. A few minutes later, the door opened, and she heard the receptionist’s excited voice.
“Yes, I’ll give them to her. She’s right here. Don’t worry.” A moment later, Gina Montañez entered carrying a tall vase of flowers.
Sharee’s heart warmed. Well, she had a husband who certainly knew how to get around her. The arrangement was unique and colorful. She reached for the card, opened it, and stood still.
Well?” Gina asked.
“It’s from Dr. Richmond.” She nodded at Gina’s look. “He says it’s for all my hard work on the program.”
“Really? Well, that’s nice of him.” Silence filled the office. Gina cleared her throat, “What do you think John will think about it?”
“I’m not going to tell John.”
Gina’s eyes widened. “You’re not?”
“He’s leaving for Indonesia tonight. There was an earthquake over there, and they need him to fly rescue missions. I don’t want to tell him about this. He’s not fond of Dr. Richmond.”
Gina looked at the flowers. “Maybe with good reason. Of course, they are beautiful.”
Sharee smiled. “They are, aren’t they?”
An hour later, Sharee sat back, shuffled together the paperwork on her desk and took out her purse. She leaned over to inhale the aroma of rose, daffodil, and daisies once more before she left.
Outside her office, Gina greeted someone. The girl’s voice carried through the doorway, louder than usual. Sharee glanced up to see John coming her way. Gina stood behind him, her hands raised in an “I’m sorry” gesture.
John had dressed in dark brown slacks and a pale yellow shirt—one of her favorite outfits, its colors complementing his dark hair and eyes. She stood in a quick motion, feeling a rush of pleasure that he’d come to the office. She came around the desk to greet him.
He swept her into a hug and then pulled his head back to inspect her face. “I don’t want to go like this.”
“I know. Me either.”
“I’m all packed, so I’m taking you for an early dinner. Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter.”
“Your pick.”
“Anywhere.”
His arms tightened, and his eyes slid past her. “Someone sent you flowers? Your boss for a job well done?”
“Well, yes and no.” Ah. She understood the receptionist’s warning. How soon she’d forgotten. She could see the question in his eyes. “Yes, about the job well done. No, I…it wasn’t my boss.”
“It wasn’t? It should have been. You did a fantastic job on the banquet.”
She nodded. “I hope the giving was up this year. We’ll have the figures by tomorrow.” She said nothing more, hoping he’d move on; but instead, he frowned.
“Who sent them?”
“Dr. Richmond.” Then, in a rush, “Just to say job well done—like you said.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“John, it’s just—”
“It isn’t just anything.”
“You’re reading too much into it.”
He straightened, and his arms dropped. “I don’t think so. He wanted lunch yesterday. Sent flowers today. What are you going to do with them?”
“Do?”
“Yes. The tra
sh is the best place for them.”
“That ridiculous.”
His eyes darkened. “It seems I heard that word earlier, too.”
“But…I mean…”
“This doesn’t send up red flags for you?”
She took his hand. “I guess it does. It’s just…well, they’re so pretty. They smell good.”
“Smell good?” His voice sounded disbelieving. “Compare them to poison being administered in a good tasting meal. It’s still poison.”
“You are being—”
“Next, he’ll call or stop by and ask how you liked them. You need to stop this before it goes any further.”
“John…”
“Tell him you appreciate the gesture, but you don’t think—in fact, you know—your husband doesn’t.”
Okay, okay. ”
“Good.” He took a step past her and grabbed the flowers.
“John.” Their eyes locked. She shook her head but couldn’t help a smile. “At least give them to Gina.”
He glanced past her, through the doorway, to where Gina watched with unabashed curiosity. He muttered something Sharee couldn’t understand and walked past her, setting the flowers down hard on the other woman’s desk. “Take these home with you.”
Marching back into the office, he grabbed her hand. “Come on. We’re going to dinner.”
Sharee snatched her purse from the desk, threw an amused glance at Gina, and let him drag her out the door.
***
Lynn looked up from the paperwork on her desk. Larry stood in her doorway. Why was he here on a Saturday? She needed to find more in-depth things to keep him busy. He haunted her doorway when he had nothing to do.
“Can I help you, Larry?”
“Have you seen Marta’s file? I can’t find it.”
“Marta’s file? Yes, I have it.”
“Good. Can I get it from you?”
“Why?”
His mouth rounded. “Why? Well, because I need it for that ad for the Task Force meeting. I thought I’d get some info from the file.”
“The one Tom and Marta are speaking at?”
“Yes. I thought I could put a blurb in the newspaper about the meeting and just add some general information about sex trafficking.”
“You don’t need Marta’s file for that. Just use the info we’ve used for other meetings.”
“I was looking for something different. You know, something to grab some new faces. I only need it for a few minutes.”
“I can’t help you, Larry. I left the file at home.”
“You took it home?”
She almost laughed at the sound of his voice. “Yes, Larry. I was going over it, but left it by mistake.”
“Oh.” He hesitated as if not knowing what else to say. Behind him, the office door opened, and he scurried back to the reception desk.
Rich and Keith Carpenter entered. Lynn walked to her doorway.
“Who are you here for today?” Larry asked.
Rich stepped forward. “Ask Ms. Stapleton if we can see her.” His eyes went past the man to where Lynn stood.
Lynn smiled and indicated the chairs in her office.
Rich waited until Keith sat down before he closed the door. He remained standing, unsmiling, professional.
Concern rose in her. “What’s wrong?” She had moved behind the desk but remained standing also.
“Maria Sanchez was attacked last night. She’s on the way to the hospital.”
Lynn heard the gasp escape her. No, Lord, not Maria, too. “Is she okay? What about Lily? Is Lily okay?”
“Lily is okay, but someone tried to kidnap her. Her mother was hurt trying to fight off the attacker. She was stabbed several times.”
“Stabbed?” A flash of red passed her eyes. She put her hand on her desk, steadying herself. “How serious is it? I need to call Sharee and get over there.” She leaned down, pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk and yanked her purse from it.
“We need to talk first.” Rich’s voice sounded rough.
Lynn frowned. “Can’t we talk when we get there?” She started to step around the desk.
Rich moved and blocked her way. “I think we need to talk here.”
“But I…” She met the coolness of his eyes and stopped. Something else was wrong. “What is it? What aren’t you saying?”
Keith cleared his throat. “Ms. Stapleton, do you know of any connection between Maria Sanchez and Victoria Lawson?
She drew her eyes from Rich’s. “No. I mean, of course, they’re both homeless, and both lived at the same place. Why? You think they’re connected in some way? But that’s absurd. You said someone was trying to kidnap Lily.”
“Do you know any other reason why Maria Sanchez would be attacked?”
“No.”
“No?” Rich inserted the question. “You had information about Lawson that you didn’t share until later.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She looked back and forth between them. The irritation inside slid to uneasiness. “What are you saying?”
“We’re wondering if you know anything that would connect Sanchez and Lawson.”
“I said no already.” She stepped back behind her desk. Lord, what is going on? “I would like to call Sharee, though, and the church; and I’d like to see Maria and Lily.
“Pedro Gonzalez said he would call the church.” Rich’s tone was level. “Tell us more about your connection with Lawson.”
“You know everything already.” Her chest tightened. Why was he acting like this?
“As far as you know, she became homeless to hide from an abusive husband. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what she told you?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing else?”
“No. Is there something else?”
“What did she want from you?”
“What?”
“Did she ask for anything—information about other people in the homeless camp? Anything?”
“No. I mean, sure, we talked about the others at the camp, about my job, things like that. Nothing that seemed important.”
“Maybe she was not what she seemed.” He studied her face as he said the words.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told us?”
“I don’t know how many times I must say it. No.” Her heart jerked, but she narrowed her eyes. Anger was better than the tears that threatened. “Victoria’s dead. Murdered. You think I would have kept something from you? Give me credit for an ounce of sense. But maybe that’s the problem—you don’t think I have any, or perhaps you think I’m the world’s greatest liar?”
***
In fact, Rich didn’t know what to think. The woman seemed much too fragile on one hand. She’d almost fainted the other day and before that had run from the crime scene because “she wanted to get away.” Yet now, her defiant stance and the look she gave him pierced him with her anger. No fragileness there.
Keith rose. “Ms. Stapleton, we need your prints and DNA. Do you have any problem with that?”
“My prints?”
Her gaze flashed past Keith to him. He saw the question. He hadn’t alienated her completely, that is, until now. He nodded.
“But why do you need my prints and DNA?” Before either of them could comment, her eyebrows rose. “Oh. I’m a suspect? Why didn’t I figure that out? That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” The sarcasm in the words failed to cover her surprise. Her hand rose halfway to her chest and froze mid-air.
“It’s standard procedure,” Keith said. “It helps us eliminate certain prints.”
“Sure.” Her chin came up, and she straightened to her full height.
Rich watched her. The suit she wore shouted “successful business woman,” but failed to conceal the emotional upheaval she was undergoing. He’d observed her dress, the thin build, and the long, blonde hair the first time he saw her, over a year ago. Whe
n he’d met her at the homeless camp the day of the murder, the memory jumped full-force to his mind. He’d used his abruptness that evening and at Sharee’s to cover his attraction to her, even as he did now.
“If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get the equipment.” Keith headed out the office door.
Lynn’s eyes met Rich’s as the door closed. She swallowed and swiveled to stare out the window behind her desk.
His gut rolled. He quenched the urge to comfort her. Did she know more than she was saying? One of the things he’d been impressed with during the other investigation was her staunch support of Sharee and John. She exuded loyalty, but did it extend to others that might not deserve it?
Silence stretched between them until Keith returned. His partner shot him a curious look before glancing at the back of Lynn’s head. “Ms. Stapleton?”
She swiveled on a toe. “Yes, Detective Carpenter?”
“Would you step over here, please?”
“Certainly, whatever you need.”
Rich almost smiled at the sarcasm but said nothing. A few minutes later, they were ready to go.
“Okay, Ms. Stapleton, thank you for your cooperation.”
Lynn nodded to him but didn’t look Rich’s way. He followed Keith to the door.
The receptionist, Larry, stood. Representative McCloud stepped from his office. Rich pulled his head back. When had he arrived? Originally, Rich had assumed Lynn would be alone today. Now, two others knew of their visit. Representative McCloud’s look went past him. Rich turned.
Lynn’s hand circled the doorknob, closing the door. He understood that. She’d want privacy for a few minutes. But he didn’t like the view of the top of her head. She’d dropped her gaze to the floor, hiding her face from the others. The quick change from defiance to embarrassment surprised him. And to him, it meant one thing—he’d hurt her more than he realized.
Chapter 12
Sharee tossed in bed. John’s plane must be over the Pacific now, maybe somewhere over Hawaii. Too fast, Lord. He was gone, and it still felt unreal. The bed’s emptiness highlighted his absence. She pulled his pillow against her and inhaled his scent.
Lord, it’s not fair. You let him go and not me, and I couldn’t tell him about the baby. She took a deep breath. All right, quit whining, Sharee. You’ll survive three weeks. She threw a glance upward. I trust you, Lord, even when I don’t understand.
Splashdown: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 3) Page 8