by Laura Scott
She pulled several pork loins out of the fridge, turning to face her son when she heard Garth coming down the stairs.
“Trey? Are you finished crying?”
He nodded but didn’t look at her.
“Are you sure?” He nodded again, this time raising his tear-streaked face to look at her. “Okay, then.” She took a tissue and went over to wipe his face. “Since you’re better now, you can go to the store with Deputy Garth.”
“’Kay.” Trey slid to the ground and ran over toward Garth who lifted her son into his arms.
The two of them looked so natural together, she had to force herself to look away. Garth had been the one to break off from their kiss, remember? Probably because he wasn’t interested in a ready-made family.
Despite the fact that he clearly had a way with kids.
“We’ll be back shortly,” Garth promised.
“Okay.” Her smile faded, her chest tight with emotion as they left the house, together. It wasn’t healthy to long for something you couldn’t have, so she turned back to her grandmother’s recipe.
It was a slow cooker meal that would take several hours, so she quickly got to work, keeping a sharp eye out for the mouse that could be hiding somewhere nearby.
She measured the garlic and rosemary, rubbing the spices along the outer portions of the pork loins. Then she browned them in a pan, before transferring them to the slow cooker. When she finished with the pork loins, she began chopping broccoli and cauliflower, seasoning them with dill and setting them aside to cook, later. Lastly, she scrubbed some small red potatoes and set them aside to be cut and broiled.
True to his word, Garth and Trey returned in less than forty-five minutes.
“How many traps did you get?” she asked, eyeing the large bag curiously.
“Six. Figured we’d put four down here, then a couple upstairs to be safe.”
The traps were larger than she’d expected, round in shape and dark so you couldn’t see inside. Trey kicked off his shoes and ran over to pick up his favorite mini car, the police cruiser.
“You’re sure those are safe to use around kids?”
“Absolutely.” Garth began setting them up, Trey watching with wide, curious eyes.
She wrinkled her nose and tried to imagine how the mouse had gotten inside in the first place. Maybe a few days ago when Trey had left the French doors open, when she’d caught him heading toward the gazebo.
Garth set up the traps and placed them in various spots around the house. She was horrified at the bits of mouse dirt he’d found and went a little crazy with bleach, cleaning every last nook and cranny.
When that was finished, Garth set up his laptop computer on the kitchen table. She made herself a cup of tea and watched as he began researching Randal’s friends.
“I found it! I found it!” Trey’s high-pitched screech had her jumping around in shock.
“What?” Jemma stared in horror as the mouse darted out of her son’s discarded shoe and ran straight toward the mousetrap located in the corner. Garth leaped up from his chair, grinning in satisfaction as the rodent instantly disappeared inside.
“We got him!” Garth exclaimed with pride.
“Thank goodness,” Jemma said, putting a hand over her racing heart. “One down, and hopefully no more to go.”
“Don’t worry, if there are others we’ll get them.”
She didn’t want to think about the possibility.
“Yay, the mouse is gone! I want you to be my daddy,” Trey said, wrapping his arms around Garth’s legs and gazing up at him adoringly.
Panic flashed in Garth’s eyes, and Jemma knew in that moment that her gut-instinct had been right all along.
Deputy Garth Lewis had absolutely no desire to get personally involved with her and Trey.
10
Hearing Trey say the word daddy was like a knife to his gut. For a moment he’d heard little Sophie’s voice, instead of Trey’s.
Guilt intermingled with pain over the loss.
Knowing he’d crossed the line of professionalism with Jemma and Trey was one thing, seeing the hero worship in Trey’s gaze was something else. He needed, desperately, to find a way to extricate himself from the silken strands of the McNally web.
“I can’t be your daddy, Trey,” he said, forcing the words past his tight throat. He didn’t dare meet Jemma’s dark brown gaze. “You already have a daddy.”
Trey’s expression clouded. “I don’t want that daddy, I want a different one. Like you.”
Okay, what in the world was he supposed to say in response to that? The thought of Cunningham using his large hands against this small boy was enough to make his stomach churn.
Jemma would never tolerate anything happening to her son, so he forced the image away. Yet he still needed to find a link between Jemma’s ex and the series of incidents that transpired here recently.
“Trey, are you ready for a snack?” Jemma offering a treat to her son as an obvious distraction worked. The little boy let go of his legs and turned toward his mom.
“I want a-aminol crackers!”
“Animal,” Jemma corrected patiently. She scooped Trey up and plopped him onto his booster seat, studiously avoiding Garth’s gaze.
He understood he was overstaying his welcome, but he also didn’t want to leave them here, vulnerable and alone.
“Only a few crackers,” Jemma was saying. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.”
Whatever Jemma was cooking smelled delicious, and he found himself looking forward to the meal.
After a brief internal debate, he took a seat at the kitchen table, returning to his laptop. He decided he’d stay the night as promised, since he had to work in the morning anyway.
Tomorrow Jemma’s first guests would arrive, and he wanted to be here when they showed up. Oh, he’d checked out each of the four couples and found nothing out of the ordinary, but he still wanted to be there.
If nothing else, to let them know that law enforcement was close at hand.
He spent more time investigating the two cops, Kevin Rhymes, Cunningham’s current partner, and Ben Skubal, his former partner. On the surface, they looked like average cops. Studying their police academy photos, he thought Skubal could possibly look like the guy described by the Pre-K teacher. The hair color was right, although it was cut military short in the photo. But if the guy had grown it out, maybe.
Still, the question remained, why would any cop risk his career to help Cunningham kidnap his son? The obvious answer was that Cunningham had something that he could hold over the head of either his former partner or current partner. Something bad or damaging in some way that could be used as leverage to force the issue.
Garth stared at the two photos for a full five minutes, his thoughts whirling. The former partner? Or current one? He wasn’t sure but wondered why Cunningham had been reassigned to a new partner in the first place.
With a sigh, he turned his attention to Cunningham’s old college roommate, Peter Dunn. Since Dunn wasn’t a cop, he went to social media first, to find a recent picture of the guy.
The photo that bloomed on the screen sent a burst of adrenaline through his system. Dunn had long greasy dirty blond hair and had a vacant look in his eyes, as if he might be on something.
The description was very close, but the fact that the guy was obviously on either drugs or alcohol gave him pause. People with substance abuse issues weren’t exactly known to be reliable. Thinking back to the baseball card and the assault on him a few nights ago, it was difficult to imagine someone like Dunn swinging a police baton at his head.
Maybe he just didn’t like the idea of being caught off guard by someone like Dunn. He turned the screen toward Jemma.
“Could this guy be the one at Trey’s preschool?”
Jemma wiped her hands on her grandmother’s apron and came closer. She frowned and nodded. “Maybe. Although, it’s hard to say. Isn’t that Pete Dunn?”
“Yeah.” Garth turned the comput
er back toward him. “His last known address is Chicago. I think I’ll give him a call, see what he has to say for himself.”
“Seems, I don’t know, like he’s not smart enough to do all this.” Jemma waved a hand encompassing the B&B. “Maybe I could see him slashing the tires on my van, but dropping the baseball card? Pretending to be Randal? Assaulting a cop?” She shook her head. “Doesn’t seem likely.”
“My thoughts exactly. However, don’t you think your ex-husband could be smart enough to use several people in his scheme? Maybe once Dunn was nearly caught at the preschool, Cunningham dumped him and moved on to someone else.”
Jemma nodded thoughtfully. “You’re absolutely right. We may not be looking for one man in particular, but several.”
Including Ahern, he thought. Dunn had the first job of kidnapping Trey but failed, so Cunningham approached Ahern and told him to drop the baseball card. It didn’t explain Trey’s sighting of his father, but maybe the little boy had been distracted by the sailboat, nothing more.
Then came the assault on him, which Garth believed had to have been done by either Rhymes or Skubal since Ahern had been sleeping off his drunken stupor in jail. The slashed tires could have been either of them as well.
Even Cunningham himself, although he doubted it. Easy to see why Cunningham had showed up at headquarters this afternoon. Jemma’s ex had wanted to flaunt the fact that he had an alibi for each of the incidents Garth was investigating.
What he needed now was a way to anticipate Cunningham’s next move. Unfortunately, his crystal ball wasn’t working.
Garth continued to work until Jazz and Dalton arrived for dinner. He shut the laptop with a click and carried it up to the yellow room to put it away.
At the top of the stairs, he listened to the conversation going on in the kitchen below. He couldn’t hear words, just the low murmur of voices and the occasional burst of laughter. Every molecule in his body wanted to go down to join them.
Still, he didn’t feel part of the group, no matter how much he wanted to be. This weird longing was ridiculous considering he’d only known the McNally twins for the past four to six weeks, when he’d responded to the threat against Jazz back in April. Yet, he wanted more.
Growing up in the foster system, he’d always been on the outside looking in.
He didn’t like feeling that way again now.
“Garth? Hurry up, man, I’m starving, and Jemma won’t let us eat without you!”
“Coming!” He headed down the curved staircase, unable to stay away. When he crossed through the great room and joined the three adults and Trey in the kitchen, Garth he felt like he belonged.
Even though he really didn’t. And shouldn’t.
“We’ve pretty much finished the master bathroom and bedroom,” Jazz was saying. “They were the worst of the areas that needed to be fixed. The rest will take a while. But in the meantime, I thought we’d start working on the garage apartment.”
“There’s no rush on that,” Jemma protested. “Trey and I are fine in the master suite.”
“We want to do this,” Dalton reassured her. “And better to start the work now, in the summer months than in the winter. In fact, I’ve already gotten the building permit. We’re good to go.”
“I can help,” Garth offered without thinking. Three sets of adult eyes turned toward him, and he could feel the tips of his ears burning. Was this the proof he needed that he wasn’t a part of the group as he’d thought? “What? I can swing a hammer, I’m not helpless.”
“Actually, we’d love the help,” Dalton said. “The good thing about working in the garage is that we’re pretty much starting from scratch. No demo work, we don’t even need to raise the roof. We can start adding the studs for walls any time.”
Adding studs for walls didn’t sound easy, but he could swing a hammer and knew both Jazz and Dalton were renovation experts. They’d done a phenomenal job rehabbing the B&B as well as the old Stevenson place.
“I think it’s important for Trey to have his own room, too,” Jazz said, smiling at her nephew. “Right, Trey?”
The boy nodded. “It would be better if I had a puppy to share my room wif me. Right, Mom?”
Garth swallowed a groan. It seemed that no matter what they did the idea of a puppy was cemented in Trey’s brain.
“Puppy?” Jazz lifted a brow.
“Goldendoodles from a few houses to the west,” Garth confirmed.
“I promise to be good,” Trey went on. “Puleeze?”
Jemma dropped her chin to her chest in a sign of defeat. “We’ll see, Trey. Maybe once we have a place to live that’s not here on the main floor of the B and B.”
Jazz and Dalton exchanged a look that was difficult to interpret, but he sensed that they were on board with the puppy idea.
He was too. Mostly because it was impossible to resist the little boy’s plea. And on a personal note, he remembered wanting a dog while growing up, but the foster families he’d lived with had nixed that idea in a heartbeat.
Even when Doug and Susan Emory had taken him in, Susan’s allergies had prevented him from getting a dog.
He knew Jemma wasn’t thrilled with the additional work that would come along with a pet. And he felt bad in the role he’d played in exposing her son to the idea.
He could only hope that someday Jemma would forgive him.
There was no way to win the puppy war, Jemma thought with a heavy sigh. But she could at least put it off until the garage apartment was finished.
A project that could easily take months. And even then, she would need to make sure there was an intercom to the garage apartment so the guests could reach her at any time in the event of an emergency.
After dinner was finished, Jazz, Dalton, and Garth all headed out to the garage. She stayed behind to double-check that she had everything she needed to begin cooking for her guests the following day.
She decided to add strawberry and rhubarb scones to the list, thinking it would be nice to offer their guests something to eat as they arrived. Going through the cabinets, she took note that she was getting low on flour and needed to ask Jazz to pick some up at the store.
Earlier she’d gotten a call from the insurance company on the cost of replacing all four of the van’s tires. Wouldn’t you know, the total was just under her thousand-dollar deductible.
Cha-ching.
Her simple goal of getting back into yoga had cost her entire savings. Money she’d have to dish out for replacement tires and rims.
Or she could wait a few weeks, until guest money rolled in.
Frustrating. She’d been so determined to regain her independence. To prove she could stand on her own two feet and to run a successful business. But she couldn’t deny the veneer of her confidence was starting to crack. While cleaning up the kitchen, and finding no new mouse dirt, thank goodness, she heard loud banging from the garage. Were they at work already? There was no need.
Although, truthfully, she loved the thought of having her own space, away from the B&B. Being on call for their guests was one thing, but having a separate space to call her own was so much better.
Once the kitchen was clean, and she had her ingredients all set out so she could get started with her baking early the next morning, she bathed Trey, then played with him until his eyelids fluttered shut.
She tucked him into bed, her heart full of love for her son.
Seeing the photograph of Peter Dunn had shaken her, badly. Was it possible he was the one? The creep who had almost gotten his grimy hands on Trey. And Garth’s theory about Randal using a variety of people to do his dirty work bothered her as well.
Difficult to know where the next threat would come from. And she wasn’t naïve enough to think there wouldn’t be another attempt.
It was only a matter of time.
The following morning Jemma rose early, anticipation of her arriving guests along with worry that her baking wouldn’t be up to par robbing her of the chance to sleep in.
The scent of coffee greeted her as she crossed the dining area. Her steps slowed when she realized Garth was seated at the table, dressed in his brown uniform, cradling a mug in his hands.
“Good morning.” It seemed as if days had passed since she last saw him, rather than twelve hours. The sound of hammering stopped at about eight thirty last night, and she’d forced herself to stay in the master suite with Trey.
“Morning.” Garth jumped up and turned on the burner beneath the red teakettle. “I helped myself to a bowl of cereal and a bagel, hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” she assured him. “Do you have time for a hot breakfast?”
“No. I need to get an early start.” He polished off the rest of his coffee and carried the empty mug to the sink. “Thanks anyway. Oh, what time do you expect your guests to arrive?”
The butterflies in her stomach felt like a flock of giant crows fighting for a way out. “I’m not sure, but check-in starts at three p.m. On our website, we ask people to arrive no later than nine p.m.”
“Okay.” He tucked his hat beneath his arm. “I’ll see you around three.”
“Thanks.” It was reassuring to know Garth would be there, not that she expected trouble. “Have a good day.”
“You, too.” He stared at her for a long moment, and she had the insane thought that he might kiss her goodbye, but of course he didn’t.
The teakettle let out a shrill whistle, startling her.
“Later,” Garth said, heading toward the front door.
“Bye.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to bring her pulse down to normal levels. Or what passed as normal today, the first day of their new business. Turning back to the counter, she chose an organic green tea bag from her eclectic collection, feeling the need for an extra boost to start the day.
The sound of a buzz saw made her groan. No way, Jazz and Dalton wouldn’t start working on the garage again today, of all days, would they?