Head Start (Cedar Tree #7)

by Freya Barker

  “Pup?” she questions when I turn my attention back on my burrito.

  “Breakfast is getting cold. Eat,” I tell her, hoping to distract her.

  I’m thinking it’s probably not a good time to tell her a pup is what she reminds me of, with those sleep-swollen eyes and lines still creasing her face. Not a good idea.

  Kendra

  “Are you hungry?”

  We’ve just finished unloading the bed and couch at my new place. A couple of beautiful baskets hanging on hooks off the porch welcomed us when we pulled into the driveway earlier. Beth had also left a nice welcome-home card on the kitchen counter with a friendly message and a bottle of champagne in the fridge. The rest of the fridge is empty, though, and the cooler with food I brought over won’t be enough. I’ll need to make a grocery run. Neil looks over my shoulder into the empty fridge.

  “I don’t have much in the way of actual food. I should head back to pick up the last of the boxes and stop in at Safeway.” I try to duck underneath Neil’s arm which he has casually draped over my shoulder, but he moves right along with me. Both his hands end up on my shoulders and he slowly turns me around until the small of my back is wedged against the counter. His hands drop down to brace on either side of me and his face is mere inches from mine.

  “I can wait,” he says in a low voice, keeping me trapped with his eyes.

  “Neil, I...” I barely get the words out before his mouth is suddenly on mine. Soft, gentle, pulling my bottom lip between his. With a languid stroke of his tongue, he traces the contour of my lip before letting it slowly slide from his mouth. Oh boy. Somehow my hands have fisted in the front of his shirt, and time has ceased to exist. I’m in trouble. “We can’t...”

  “Hush,” he says, leaning in for a soft brush against my mouth. “I’m going to hook up your Internet and put together your bed while you get your groceries. Take that time to wrap your head around what just happened here, because the way you just responded to that kiss tells me a much clearer story than the crap you’ve been feeding me for the past year. Not gonna let you push me away after that, Pup.”

  I can barely think. The deep timbre of his voice and the way his nose rubs against my cheek as he talks has me mesmerized. That’s why, when he steps back, I almost lose my balance. My eyes fly to his face and I see he has a hard time not smiling.

  “I tripped,” I lamely say. Naturally, now he chuckles. I’m an idiot.

  “Of course you did,” he teases before touching the tip of his finger to my nose and walking out of the kitchen, leaving me wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

  Groceries, that’s what. I dig in the cupboard under the sink where I stuffed some grocery bags, grab my purse and head out the door. I’m about to get in the RAV when I hear Neil calling.

  “Kendra, can you bring back some True Blonde Ale? Those yellow cans. I think Safeway carries it.” Neil is hanging out of the window of my bedroom toward the back of the house.

  “Sure.” With one last look at his ear-to-ear grin, I slip behind the wheel. I’m in trouble, all right.

  All the way back to my apartment, I practice what I will say when I get back. It’s not original. I’ve said all of it before and he’s made it clear he doesn’t consider those good enough reasons. Not anymore. Regardless, there’s no way I can start anything with him, however tempting he is. I know in my heart I don’t have it in me to recover if he breaks me. And I have no doubt he will. Before long, the hot fling with the older woman will lose its shine, and I’ll just be alone again.

  Walking down the hall to my apartment, I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts, I don’t notice something leaning against the front door. Not until I pull out my keys and look down. A beautiful field bouquet, in yellow and purple. Wrapped in clear foil, I can see the edge of a card stuck between the tulips and heather. I pick up the bouquet, unlock the door, walk in and drop it on the counter.

  I don’t like this. The card is printed on one side with the word Sorry, and I carefully peel back the wrap to pull it free. On the inside, written in tidy small letters is a note:

  -

  It was wonderful meeting you, and I hope you’ll forgive my enthusiasm.

  I would like to see you again.

  Lars, xox

  -

  Immediately, my eyes scan the hallway. That’s a little freaky. I don’t remember telling him where I live and I don’t think he could’ve followed me home last night. Closing the door, I notice my heart is beating a little fast. I toss the flowers on top of a box by the door and do one last walk through of the apartment. Confident I’ve got everything, I load the remaining boxes in my SUV and go back to pick up the last one. The flowers are still on the last box by the door and, on impulse, I tuck the little card in my purse, before dumping the bouquet in the garbage can in the lobby. The whole thing leaves me a little rattled and I have no intention of hanging on to them.

  Luckily, Safeway is around the corner from my building, and I’m in and out of there within twenty minutes with my bags stuffed. I even remembered to pick up Neil’s beer. But I notice myself checking the rear-view mirror the entire drive back to Cedar Tree.

  I find myself feeling relieved when I pull in behind Neil’s truck. I turn off the engine and rest my head on the steering wheel, letting go of the tension caused by last night’s fiasco and this morning’s flowers. Done with that. Done with blind dates. It’s not worth the stress. A loud knock on the window right beside me has me jump clear across the console. Before I can even get my bearings, Neil yanks open the door and leans in.

  “What happened, Kendra?” His brows are drawn together and his eyes express concern. “What happened?”

  I close my eyes and lean my head back, blowing out a deep breath in relief. His hand comes up to stroke my cheek with the back of his fingers.

  “You’re fucking shaking,” he mutters, grabbing my hand and pulling me from the car straight into his arms.

  “Because you scared the crap out of me. I’m fine. Just a little jumpy.” I gently push back on his firm chest, trying not to get too comfortable in his arms. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold on me. “Really.” I plaster a reassuring smile on my face. “ Let’s just get this stuff inside.” Although still showing concern, Neil lets me step out of his arms.

  Once the last of the boxes are inside, I start putting away the groceries, leaving the makings for sandwiches on the counter. It’s damn near two-thirty and I’m hungry as all get out.

  “Grilled ham and cheese okay for you?” I ask Neil when he walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter.

  “Sounds good. You want a drink?” He pulls open the fridge and comes out waving a beer.

  “I’ll just have some juice, thanks.”

  I’m surprised how easily we move around each other in the kitchen. It’s a rarity. I usually get irritated when people get in my way while I’m cooking, but Neil seems to be able to anticipate my moves before I make them. And vice versa. Therefore, it doesn’t take long before we’re sitting at the dining room table, with croque-monsieurs on plates in front of us. The smell of melted cheese makes my stomach rumble and I don’t hesitate taking a huge bite from my sandwich.

  “This is good,” Neil mumbles around a mouthful of grilled cheese. “Better than a regular grilled cheese.”

  “That because I put three different cheeses and shoulder ham in there. It’s called a croque-monsieur. My mom used to make these all the time. It’s the best comfort food.” I watch as he easily devours the first one and I’m glad I had the foresight to make him two. Aside from his looks, smarts and his technical savvy, Neil is known for his bottomless appetite.

  This feels nice—too nice—sharing a meal. Not that we’ve never shared a meal before, but that was usually in a group or at a gathering. It’s never been just the two of us. It feels...intimate, and oddly comfortable, which in itself is a little bit disconcerting.

  “As if there weren’t quite a few things to discuss already, I would love to know
what thoughts were going through your mind just now.” Neil’s voice cuts into my drifting thoughts. “They were visible on your face,” he says as he pushes back his chair, collects our dishes and sets them on the kitchen counter. Turning back to me, he pulls me up from my chair and leads me to the couch, where he sits and tugs me down beside him. “Tell me what had you so jumpy.”

  I shift to create some space between us, but with his hand still clasping mine, he doesn’t let me go far. “Just a guy who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer,” I finally concede.

  I feel the slight jerk of his hand around mine and his body seems to go on alert beside me. “Go on,” he says in a deceptively calm tone, but when I chance a glance at his face, I can see the dark intensity in his eyes.

  With a sigh, I continue, “He left flowers at the apartment. They were there when I went back for the boxes, sitting in the hallway propped up against my door.” Pulling my hand free, I reach for my purse on the coffee table and pull out the card and hand it over. “It was just a coffee date. We talked about hiking. I’d brought some maps for him to look at. He didn’t seem happy when I told him I wasn’t up for going hiking with him. I went home thinking that was the end of that until I found the flowers.”

  “This guy, how did he know where you lived? Lars...” He studies the card intently, before dropping it back to the table and twisting sideways to face me. “That his name? How did you meet him?”

  “Seriously, I think you’re overreacting,” I tell him, afraid to admit I ignored his caution last night at dinner. “Look, even if the guy was a bit...off, and he managed to get his hands on my address, it won’t do him any good now, will it? I officially don’t live there anymore.” Perhaps I’m trying to convince myself of this as much as I’m trying to convince Neil. I don’t want to admit to the hint of uncertainty lingering. I’ve lived forty years, and aside from my mother’s penchant for young boys and my sister’s borderline nymphomaniac behavior, I’ve never had reason to feel unsafe. So it’s not a surprise this has me unsettled.

  Neil is not easily convinced, however.

  “Kendra,” he growls impatiently. “Talk.”

  I shoot an irritated look his way, which leaves him annoyingly unmoved.

  “Fine.” I lift my hands in surrender. “I met him on MatureDatingOnly at the beginning of the year. I’d put a profile up before Christmas and never looked at it until the day after New Year’s. There were a bunch of messages from total sleezeballs, which I immediately deleted, but there was one that stood out from the rest. It was a very polite note from a guy who had similar interests to mine and I ended up responding to it. He seemed nice, but the other, less savory messages kept on coming and I’d already had enough of the whole scene. When I told him I was going to shut down my profile, he sent me his regular e-mail and left it up to me to contact him.” I lower my eyes and look at my hands, a tad embarrassed. “I kept his e-mail, and ended up sending him a message. Like I told you earlier, we were just talking this whole time. Mostly about the outdoors: good hiking trails, beautiful spots to see, that kind of stuff. Although, he also told me stories about his students. He’s a teacher in Gallup, and I shared a little about my work. Never was there anything more to it, I swear.” I don’t know why it’s so important for me to impress that on Neil, it just is. He simply nods encouragingly. I continue telling him about how we ended up meeting for coffee, a bit ashamed I had so easily given out my telephone number.

  I’m wringing my hands in my lap during the prolonged silence that follows, until one of Neil’s large ones covers both of mine, stilling them. “Could your address have been on the maps?” he asks calmly.

  I think back. Like I’d told the guy, most of those maps date back decades, but I had picked up some newer ones not that long ago. A thought occurs to me. “I actually think I may have had one sent to me a few years back. I’d bought an annual pass, and I think they sent me a map as a thank you. Maybe that had my address on it?”

  “That’s probably it. But if he contacts you again in any way, I need you to tell me,” he gently insists, and I lift my eyes. His face is close enough so that even the slightest movement from either of us will likely result in a touch. Or another kiss. His crystal clear blue eyes are mesmerizing and I respond with a breathy “Okay,” instantly regretting my easy compliance.

  What is wrong with me?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Neil

  “What’s up?” Mal answers his phone immediately.

  “Have you heard anything from Damian on those telephone records? He was going to check if Cora Jennings had actually called this Alan Cymars guy the day she disappeared.”

  “Yes. A few calls actually. Damian’s pretty convinced he’s the guy she was planning to meet for dinner. Unfortunately they’re coming up empty. No one by that name at any bank in Farmington, and there was only the phone number which was likely a burner. No longer active. They’re working on tracking his e-mails, but each one was sent from a different IP address, most of which from unsecured wireless routers in residential areas all over the Four Corners region.”

  I swear under my breath. “He fucking just drove down neighborhoods trolling for signals. It means he’s got a tablet or laptop in his car, and he’s at the very least computer savvy if he knows how to avoid IP tracking.”

  “What’s got you wired?” Mal, perceptive as always, inquires.

  “It’s Kendra.”

  After a rocky start, Mal and I have forged a pretty solid friendship since his marriage to Kim. During the months prior to that we’d spent some intense times together, which is why I don’t have to think twice talking about Kendra with him.

  “What’s going on?” he prompts me.

  I tell him about this Lars guy Kendra met online, and about the weird vibe she was getting off him. I tell him about the flowers and the card. By the time I’m done, the silence on the other side is deafening.

  “Look,” Mal finally says. “I get that you’re protective of her. Hell, you know I am too. But from where I’m sitting, it could just be what it looks like: the guy’s more interested in Kendra than she is in him, and he’s giving it one last go with the flowers. Can you blame him? Not sure you need to make more out of it.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, Kendra says she checked out his profile up on the high school website where he works. The guy spent four months e-mailing back and forth with her. You’re right, he could just be an asshole who doesn’t know when to give up.”

  Mal’s point of view helps put things in perspective. My reaction is likely more out of jealousy than common sense. It doesn’t completely settle my gut—I’m just not a believer in coincidence.

  “It always pays to be cautious, though. Keep an eye on Kendra, not that you need any encouragement.” Mal chuckles. “You can always look into the guy for yourself. I just wouldn’t advertise that to her. She may not thank you for butting in.”

  “I should just lock Kendra up until this fucker is caught,” I say, thinking out loud.

  Malachi bursts out laughing. “I hear you, and good luck with that. You’re gonna have to catch her first. Maybe consider letting her in on why you are up in her business.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I can’t help consider that telling her might scare the shit out of her unnecessarily. “Hey Mal, you think we should put a bug in Damian’s ear about this guy? Even just make a footnote on the files? Couldn’t hurt. I’m going to have a quiet look into a high school teacher from Gallup with the name Lars. Can’t be many of those around.”

  “Sounds good,” Mal says. “I’m gonna have a chat with Damian, if you’ll make sure Gus is up to date. And keep an eye on our girl.”

  “I’ll stick as close as she’ll let me.”

  I can still hear Mal’s laughter as I hang up the phone.

  With my feet up on the railing of the porch, I lean back and fold my hands behind my neck, enjoying the afternoon sun.

  “Everything all right?” Kendra walks around the corner of the
house and sits beside me on the swing.

  “Did you get your stuff squared away?” I reply.

  “Are you answering my question with a question of your own?” She comes right back, apparently onto my sad attempt at evasion. She squeals in protest when I hook my arm around her neck and pull her to my side.

  “Talked to Mal. That case we’ve been working on—the one I wasn’t able to talk about? I’m still technically not able to talk about it but I’m gonna.” Just like that, I’ve made up my mind to tell her enough to take this seriously.

  She pushes back from my side and turns to look at me. “Am I going to freak out?”

  “Possibly.” I chuckle at her attempt to look threatening before I turn serious again. “Remember I told you it might not be a good idea to go on dates with guys you meet on the Internet?” At her affirming nod, I continue, making sure I have her settled back under my arm. “I had good reason. Remember Damian Gomez? He’s the FBI agent who’s been involved in some of our cases in the past. He asked GFI for help on a case. A number of women have been reported missing from La Plata County over the past few months. There may be even more disappearances that are connected across state borders. Last week three of the women were found near Durango, deceased.” I feel Kendra stiffen under my touch, but she doesn’t say anything. “From information we got on the latest victim, there might be a link to dating sites. It’s possible the singles scene is what’s being used to connect with these women.” Before I have a chance to hold her back, Kendra is off the swing and pacing up and down the porch, pulling the elastic from her hair and running her hands through the loose strands. Seeing her this flustered, I decide I’ve told her enough. No need to get into details that might keep her awake at night.

  “No way. No fucking way. Son of a fucknugget.” She is mumbling under her breath, obviously agitated. On her next pass, I manage to snag her wrist and pull her back down beside me.