Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  “There’s sausage, too, if she’ll eat it.”

  “I think the eggs will be enough. And maybe some toast.”

  “Sure.” He pulled a loaf of bread from an old-fashioned bread box that Burke had inherited from his grandmother.

  The floor above his head creaked. Something slid across the wood. Good. They were actually getting something done.

  He glanced at the computer monitors. The street was quiet, dusk falling in deep shades of purple and gray. Someone had already closed the window shades in the kitchen. He glanced into the living room. Same there.

  “Do you think you can stay inside while I go upstairs and check on the progress?” he asked. He didn’t bother telling her that there were alarms on all the doors and windows. It would be interesting to see if she tried to run again.

  “Where else would I go?” she asked as she cracked an egg into the bowl.

  “The same place you were planning to go when you jumped out of the car.”

  “I was going to Sophia. Since she’s with me, I think I’ll just stay put for a while.”

  A while didn’t mean until the trial.

  Hunter was pretty certain that she had purposely worded her response that way.

  He kept his mouth shut about it, though, and walked through the kitchen and up the stairs.

  NINE

  Obviously, there were alarms on the doors and the windows.

  There was absolutely no way Hunter would have left her and Sophia alone otherwise.

  Annie whisked two eggs in the bowl and searched through the cupboards for salt and pepper, Sophia clinging to her leg the whole time.

  She hadn’t had a nap and her schedule was off. Annie couldn’t blame her for whining and clinging.

  On the other hand, Annie hadn’t slept well. She wanted to whine and cling, too. The problem was, she didn’t have anyone to complain to and she didn’t have anyone to cling to, either. That had been the best thing about marriage. Always having someone there. Always knowing that she wasn’t on her own and that, if she was having a bad day, she had someone to pick up the slack.

  Most of the time, she didn’t let the lack of those things bother her. She just went about her days doing what she needed to. Every once in a while, she wished she could have the life she’d planned. The one she and Joe had dreamed of.

  Even if he’d lived, they wouldn’t have had it, though. With the amount of debt Joe had accrued during their short marriage, they’d have lost their home eventually. They’d have lost their car. They probably would have fought even more than they already had been about finances.

  The happy life they’d been planning would have been buried under the burden of Joe’s addiction.

  She poured the eggs into the pan and cooked them quickly, her throat tight with everything she’d lost.

  She dropped toast into the toaster, the sound of something being dragged across the floor above her head scraping along her nerves. She felt trapped, and she didn’t like the feeling.

  She didn’t know what to do about it, either.

  Except pray. She’d done so much of that in the past year, she was sure God must be tired of hearing the same requests over and over again.

  Please, keep Sophia safe.

  Please, get me through the trial.

  Please, let us just get a normal life back.

  She wanted all those things so badly. She knew she had to trust that God would provide them. Trust was hard lately, though. Everything was hard.

  She slid the eggs onto a plate, buttered a piece of toast and looked around the kitchen. There wasn’t a place for Sophia to eat unless she had her sit at the table right near the computer. A toddler, eggs and a computer didn’t seem like a good mix, so she carried everything out of the kitchen and into a large living room. The furniture looked new, the hardwood floor polished to a high shine. Beyond the room, a staircase led up to a second floor. Just beyond that, another room opened up. It didn’t look like a dining room. At least, it didn’t seem to have a table or chairs in it.

  The living room would have to work. Nothing in it looked baby-proof, but she carried the plate to the coffee table and set it there.

  “Here, Sophia,” she said. “Let’s eat.”

  She forked up some eggs.

  “No!” Sophia said, swiping at the fork. “I do it.”

  Egg splattered on the floor and slid halfway across the room.

  Wonderful!

  Annie hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a dish towel from the sink and ran back into the living room. It took about twenty seconds, but by the time she got back, more eggs were on the floor and somehow Sophia had smashed a handful of them into her hair.

  Leaving the plate on the table had been a rookie mistake. She knew better. She’d just been too tired to think things through.

  “Sophia!” she nearly yelled as her daughter grabbed another handful of eggs. “Don’t!”

  Too late…

  Eggs flew across the room, landed on the edge of the black leather sofa and slid to the floor.

  Annie grabbed the plate. She was about ready to tear her hair out, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  Hot tears burned behind her eyes. To her horror, one slipped down her cheek.

  “There’s no sense crying over tossed eggs,” she muttered as she wiped egg off the floor. Another tear slipped down her face.

  It seemed so ridiculous to be crying because her daughter had chucked egg all over the room, but she was.

  She sniffed back more tears and wiped down the sofa. Thankfully, it didn’t look as though the leather had been damaged. A few more spots of egg, and the room would be clean. Then she’d just have to give Sophia a bath, scrub her hair and dry it so that she didn’t have to go to bed with it wet.

  She knelt on the floor, wiping slimy egg from the wood, her bandaged knees throbbing. The entire day had been a mess. Compared to everything else, the eggs shouldn’t have been a big deal.

  So, why did they feel like they were?

  Sophia headed for the stairs, and Annie scooped her up one-armed. “No, Sophia! Sit down and be good while Mommy finishes cleaning up your mess,” she snapped.

  Sophia giggled.

  She was in the mood for games.

  Annie was not.

  She carried Sophia into the kitchen, rinsed out the dishrag, her palms stinging. She grabbed a piece of paper towel, wet it in the sink and started washing Sophia’s face and hands. Apparently, her daughter did not want to be cleaned. She squealed and wiggled, her protests escalating to a full-blown shriek that settled right into the space behind Annie’s eyes.

  “Everything okay in here?” Hunter asked as he walked into the kitchen. A plate of food sat on the counter, a piece of toast and a few smashed bits of egg sitting on it.

  Annie was at the sink, Sophia screaming as she tried to wash her face. Somehow, the kid had gotten egg in her hair. And on her shirt. And, actually, now that he was looking, on the floor.

  “We’re fine,” Annie muttered, wiping Sophia’s face one more time before she set her on the floor. Neither looked fine. Sophia looked fit to be tied, and Annie looked as if she’d been crying, her eyes red-rimmed and glittering with more tears.

  “It looks like someone needs a bath,” he said calmly. Defusing an escalating situation was part of the job description. Even if the escalating situation was an overtired toddler. “You ready for a bath, Sophia?”

  “No!” she shrieked, stomping her foot for emphasis.

  Annie sighed. “I guess this is it. The beginning of the terrible twos.” Her voice wobbled a little, but she didn’t shed the tears that were in her eyes.

  “My sister says the twos are easy. It’s the threes you have to watch out for.” He opened a cupboard, looking for something that might fill Sophia’s mouth and keep her from crying.

  “Thanks for the words of encouragement,” Annie said drily. “And if you’re hunting for a treat for my defiant little girl, forget it. She’s taking a bath, and then
she’s going to bed.”

  “She’s just overtired.”

  “I know that, but…” She pressed her lips together and lifted her daughter.

  “What?”

  “I’m overtired, too, and being in protective custody is starting to get to me.”

  “What do you need to make things better?” he asked, telling himself that he had to keep her happy, keep her focused and heading happily toward trial.

  There were other reasons he wanted to know, reasons that had more to do with who Annie was than what she could do for the prosecuting attorney’s case.

  “Nothing that you can give me right now.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “Why?” she asked, lifting Sophia and carrying her from the room. She was limping slightly. Probably from the long gash on her knee.

  “Because it’s—”

  “Your job to make sure that I’m comfortable, happy and safe?” She glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes hard. “I think we’ve been over this a thousand times in the past couple of months, and I don’t need the reminder. How about you just show me where the bathroom is so I can wash Sophia’s hair? Hopefully, by the time I’m done, her bed will be ready.”

  He grabbed her arm before she could walk away, holding her in place.

  “I was going to say,” he murmured, “that it’s possible to get around some of our safeguards. Or maybe a better way to say it would be that we can work within those safeguards and still give you a little more freedom, if that’s what you need.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks blazed, but she looked straight into his eyes. “Sorry. I guess this is my day for jumping to conclusions.”

  “It’s been a long month.”

  “It’s been a long year.”

  And it had obviously taken its toll on her. She was at least ten pounds lighter than when they’d met, her eyes deeply shadowed. Her normal good cheer usually hid that, but today, he could see the fatigue on her face.

  “It will be over soon, Annie. The trial is just around the corner,” he assured her, sliding his hand from her arm to her shoulder, letting his palm rest there.

  “It’s never going to be over. Everything I wanted is out of my reach, and I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life dealing with that.”

  “What did you want?”

  “Just…family. A nice little house where I could be happy.”

  “You can still have those things,” he reminded her.

  “Maybe so, but it won’t ever be the same. I’ll always have Joe’s…” She glanced at her daughter and pressed her lips together. “The past will always be part of my life. I can’t change it, and I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “But you can move on, make something even better than what you had.”

  “Maybe,” she said with a sad smile that made his heart ache. “I really need to get Sophia into the bath. Can you show me where it is now?”

  He wanted to tell her that she had deserved better than a husband who sneaked around behind her back, spending money neither of them had. He wanted to tell her that, in a few years, she really would have everything she’d lost. Maybe even more. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t let the past limit the future, but it wasn’t his right, so he stayed silent.

  He led her up the stairs instead, showed her the oversize bathroom. A claw-foot tub sat beneath a window, an old-fashioned showerhead hanging above it.

  He pulled towels from the linen closet and found a small bottle of baby shampoo that his sister had left after she’d visited with her kids.

  He set them on the edge of the sink.

  “Serena and Josh stopped by the safe house on the way here and grabbed your suitcase. I—”

  “Really?” Annie asked. “That’s great. Can I get a few things out of it?”

  “Sure. Your room is down the hall.” He led her to the room that he and Burke used for guests. Not that they had many. Burke’s sister came once in a blue moon, and Hunter’s sister and nephews stayed the night when they were in town. Once or twice a year at most.

  Josh was pushing the newly built crib into place as Hunter entered the room. Burke had dismantled it the previous day, planning to move it to the apartment.

  “I think we’re finished,” Josh said. “Mind if I head out? I have some paperwork to do at the office before my shift ends.”

  Hunter was tempted to ask what Josh’s hurry was, but he thought he knew. There was enough tension in the air to choke a man, and most of it was coming from Serena.

  “No problem,” he responded. “Where’s the suitcase you brought from the safe house?”

  “I put it in the closet when we were moving furniture around,” Josh said. “I’ll get it.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Josh. I can handle it. You go do your paperwork,” Serena cut in, her voice smooth and cool. She’d always been a consummate professional, but since her brother’s death, she seemed to have an impenetrable veneer. Always professional. Always calm. Always coolly in control.

  Josh nodded and left the room, his shoulders tense, his carriage upright. He looked angry and a little hurt.

  Not surprising. He’d lost a lot when Daniel died. Not just his partner, but his best friend. Hunter almost went after him. Just to make sure he was doing okay, but he didn’t think Josh would appreciate that he’d noticed his weakness or, even, that he was worried for him.

  “Here’s the suitcase,” Serena said, dropping it onto the bed. “I thought I’d make a run to the store, grab a few more things that we’re probably going to need. Juice. Cereal. Baby stuff.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Is there anything you want or need, Annie?” she asked.

  Annie was already unzipping the suitcase, Sophia still fussing in her arms. She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  “Have Hunter call me if you change your mind.” Serena walked into the hall and turned to face Hunter again. “When will Burke be back?”

  “A couple of hours. He’s meeting with the computer forensic team.”

  “Shouldn’t you be there? I can stay here if you want to attend the meeting.”

  “Burke can handle it.” And Hunter didn’t really trust Annie to stay put.

  She might, for her daughter’s sake, but he sensed her restlessness and her fear. Even if she hadn’t admitted that she was tired of being in witness protection, he would have known it.

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. If there’s any trouble, you know where to find me.”

  “There won’t be.”

  He hoped.

  Serena hurried down the hall, her feet pounding on the wood stairs. He heard the door open and close, heard the dead bolt turn. She’d set the alarm. That was part of protocol, and he trusted her to follow it.

  Outside, the wind had picked up, battering the windows and whistling through the eaves. If Annie noticed, she didn’t let on. Just kept pulling things out of the suitcase. Pink pajamas. A soft white blanket. A little brown dog. She unzipped a side pocket and pulled out a bottle of baby wash and a small washcloth. Like every mother he’d ever known, she was prepared.

  She pulled a black Bible from the front pocket and set it on the bed. He’d seen that Bible a hundred times, but something about the way she touched the front cover made him wonder where it had come from, how long she’d had it, who had given it to her.

  “I think that’s all I need.” She left the suitcase unzipped and walked out into the hall. “Thank you, Hunter.”

  He’d been dismissed.

  He heard the bathroom door close. Water splashed into the tub. The sounds of everyday life for a widow and her daughter.

  He should have walked out of the room right then. Gone downstairs and waited for the others to return. He lifted the Bible instead. The leather was soft with use, the pages thin, their edges bent and curled. It didn’t feel intrusive to open it. Maybe because he’d spent nearly a decade standing on the outside of other people’s lives, studying their habits, learning the
ir routines. Keeping them safe always meant knowing everything about them. He became part of their lives while staying completely separate from them. That was how he lived with the witnesses he was protecting.

  He opened the faded cover of the Bible to a presentation page.

  To my first and only love. May we have forever and a day together. Love, Joe.

  The inscription was dated. It could have been presented on any day, but Hunter knew the date. He’d studied Annie’s life. Learned who her friends were, what her past was, where all her connections lay. He’d needed to make sure that she didn’t return to any old habits or old friends, that she didn’t find herself tempted to connect to anyone she’d known before her husband’s murder.

  Yeah. He knew the date. Knew it was the day she’d married Joe Delacorte. His wedding gift to her? Probably.

  Suddenly, he did feel as though he was intruding. As if he was glimpsing something too personal, something that was absolutely none of his business.

  Why she’d kept a Bible given to her by a man who’d lied to her, betrayed her trust, gotten her into the kind of trouble most people would never see in a lifetime, wasn’t anything he needed to know.

  He set the Bible down and walked out of the room, past the bathroom, where he could hear Annie singing some silly kid song to her daughter, down the stairs, where the house looked just like it had before Annie and her daughter had arrived.

  It felt different, though.

  It felt a lot more like home.

  TEN

  Sophia fell asleep quickly, her cheeks pink from her warm bath, her thumb in her mouth. Tendrils of hair curled at her nape and stuck to her forehead, while her long lashes brushed her cheeks.

  Sleeping, she looked like Joe, full-cheeked and round-faced. Her coloring was more Annie’s, but the resemblance to her father was there in the cheeks and lashes and full lips.

  The windowpane rattled, a winter storm blowing outside.

  The rule was, stay away from the windows. Hunter had told her that fifty times since she’d walked into his house.

  She was tempted to go peek outside anyway.

  She’d always loved storms. The howling wind and blowing rain or snow. The wild whipping of trees and bushes.