Desire and Protect

by Lori Ryan

Her lids lowered. “That’s a little sexy when you do that.”

  The nurse snorted, but Shane shot her a glare and she slipped from the room.

  Shane pulled a chair close to the bed and sat, then brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I need you to forget anything the Junes told you until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

  “Mindy said it, too,” she slurred.

  Shane was torn between cursing and grinning. “Forget that, too. We’ll talk after you’ve had a chance to rest. For now, close your eyes.”

  Her hand tightened on his and her eyes shot open. “Stay!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and he did laugh at that, because he felt for all the world like one of Cade’s trained dogs. He didn’t care. He’d be her trained anything. He just wanted her safe and by his side.

  “You won’t leave me?”

  “Not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He ran his hand up her arm. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, let her know he was here, but he was afraid he’d hurt her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  41

  Let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children.

  Irish Proverb recorded in Fiona O’Malley’s Journal

  Unfortunately, the General arrived at about the same time Garret came in with news on how the fire had started. General Brophy wore the mask Shane imagined he wore when headed into battle or, as most of his battles likely took place in strategy rooms nowadays, a meeting. His expression was fierce, unyielding, and it had to be said, downright frightening.

  Shane had been telling General Brophy what the doctors had told him when Garret entered the room. After introductions, the three men stepped into the hallway. Shane stayed in front of the door, so he could hear Phoebe if she woke up. He didn’t want her waking up alone.

  “Your gut was right, Shane,” Garret began, “the fire was set.”

  “The doctors said she had two injuries to her head,” Shane told Garret. “I don’t think those were an accident, either.”

  There was a slight pale sheen to the General now and Shane understood it. It reminded him of the sick feeling he’d had since seeing those flames.

  “The fire was started right outside Phoebe’s bedroom door.” Garret paused and looked to the General. “Phoebe was unconscious in her bedroom when Shane found her.”

  The General shot a look to Shane but nodded to Garret to continue. “There were pillows we believe came from Phoebe’s bed piled outside the bedroom door. They were doused in two substances: acetone and cooking oil.”

  “That doesn’t happen by mistake,” Shane said, stating the obvious.

  “No,” Garret said, “it doesn’t. I was lucky. I got one of the arson guys to come in right away from Branson Falls. He’s headed back now because he’s knee deep in another investigation, but he said if he had to guess, whoever did this did some research ahead of time. The acetone was the combustible and the oil was the accelerant. The combination ensured the fire caught quickly and spread fast. It’s also a combination of items many people might have in their home. Arsonists try to make use of either items that wouldn’t draw suspicion if someone was carrying them in small amounts, or items they can find in the target location.”

  “Was it a random attack?” The General looked between Shane and Garret, and Shane could see the man didn’t think the answer to his question was yes.

  Shane shook his head. “I don’t know. The law office was broken into recently. Nothing was taken, but it was clear someone was looking for something.”

  Garret looked to Shane. “Would anyone have reason to think Phoebe had taken files home with her? Did she, for that matter? Ever take work home with her?”

  Understanding dawned on Shane swiftly and it was all he could do not to hit his head on the wall. “Oh hell, Garret. She had Fiona’s Journal. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

  “Fiona is the woman who committed suicide recently?” The General asked.

  It was Shane who answered after Garret got a description of the journal and then stepped away to tell his officer on the scene to search for it in Phoebe’s apartment. “Up until a few days ago, we thought she’d committed suicide. Now, there’s evidence it might have been murder. Phoebe had her journal at her house. I should have remembered she had it as soon as Garret discovered her death might not be a suicide.” He looked back to Phoebe’s room, his chest tight and feeling like it might crack open. He could have gotten her killed.

  “Shane,” General Brophy said, one hand on Shane’s shoulder and his voice as soft as Shane had heard it when the big man spoke to his daughter. “You saved her life. I don’t think I have all the details yet, but that much is clear. I owe you a debt I can’t ever repay.” The man paused. “She’s everything to me.”

  Shane was beginning to understand the feeling.

  42

  I’ve always wanted my daughter to be stronger than I am. I want her to know love, know her own mind, and, above all, know joy.

  Fiona O’Malley’s Journal

  “No, dad. I’m not leaving. I’ll stay with friends and I’ll take precautions, but I’m not going to run.” Phoebe sat propped up in bed. She was hoping another coughing fit didn’t come on. It wouldn’t help her cause. The nurse was due with another nebulizer soon. She would feel better after that.

  They’d taken the breathing tube out, and she was told her head was healing, though her headaches were still there.

  “It might not be a bad idea, Phoebe. Just temporarily.”

  Phoebe’s jaw dropped at Shane’s words. She didn’t know what had happened while she’d been hopped up on pain meds, but her father and Shane were awfully chummy. Well, maybe not chummy, but at least in agreement where orchestrating her life was concerned.

  “I know you mean well,” she said as she divided a look between the two of them, “but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  Shane crossed his arms and Phoebe laughed. “I grew up with him,” she said, tossing her head toward her dad. “Do you really think that’s going to work on me?”

  “She’s not going to give in.” This came from her father and she almost felt bad for the two of them. They looked so dejected.

  “Fine. Stay with me,” Shane said. “We’ll go to and from work together and I’ll take you anywhere else you need to go until this person is caught.”

  Phoebe was surprised to see her dad nodding his agreement. He wanted her to go stay with Shane? What planet was she on? This was the man who’d once told her prom date he had wired Phoebe’s body with sensors and would know if the boy laid a single hand under her dress.

  “I can’t…I’m not going to…” She stopped. How could she remind Shane they’d broken up if she didn’t want her dad to hear the conversation?

  Shane raised a brow. “Yes?”

  Phoebe pressed her lips together.

  “Good. It’s settled.” Her father crossed his arms now with a nod and Phoebe was left staring at the two men, both in identical poses. Both fully satisfied they’d just MacGyvered the problem brilliantly.

  Phoebe sighed. “Fine.”

  Shane was all grins, but as he sat next to her and took her hand, his face grew serious. “Now, I want to talk to you about something.”

  Phoebe nodded.

  “You and I knew you had the journal,” he began. “Margaret, too. Who else knew about it?” His voice was soft and gentle and she had a feeling he was trying not to give her a panic attack.

  Phoebe closed her eyes, thinking. “Katelyn and Ashley. I think Laura?” She opened her eyes and looked to her dad. “My dad.”

  “She told me at the diner,” the General said to Shane. “It didn’t seem like it was a big secret. Any number of people could have overheard.”

  Phoebe’s eyes flew to Shane’s. “Aengus O’Malley was behind us. I saw him come in and sit down, but then forgot he was there.”

  Shane nodded. “Anyone else you remember seeing there? Or anyplace else you talked abo
ut it that someone could have overheard?”

  “Not that I can think of. Margaret mentioned that she told Bev one day. She said Bev was worried about Fiona’s daughter still not forgiving her mother, so Margaret told her I was searching the journal for a way to help Emmaline.”

  Shane nodded, face grim. “I’ll call Garret and give him the names of everyone you can remember, but keep thinking about it.”

  The squeeze he gave her hand when he walked away probably shouldn’t have made her stomach flutter as much as it did. Phoebe watched him go and tried to come to grips with the hope that was so swiftly building in her heart.

  43

  There is no need like the lack of a friend.

  Irish proverb recorded in Fiona O’Malley’s Journal

  It wasn’t lost on Shane that Phoebe’s dad was the exact opposite of his own. General Brophy was responsibility. Well, as much as any one man could embody responsibility, anyway.

  Shane respected the hell out of him. As far as he could tell, the man was devoted to country and service, but he was equally devoted to his daughter. Phoebe’s dad had raised her from her first month of life on, and he never seemed to regret a moment of it.

  Oddly, he also reminded Shane of his own dad in some ways. He seemed genuinely interested in everything Phoebe had to say to him. Watching them as they ate dinner at Shane’s place two days later, he realized his own father had always been interested in listening to what he had to say.

  All those questions his old man had asked him about lessons learned throughout his day had been because his dad wanted something deeper than “how was your day?”

  Shane looked at Phoebe as she grinned a devilish grin at her dad. She was teasing him, and it brought out this playful side of her Shane loved. She looked lovely. She would say otherwise. The whole left side of her hair had been singed and would have to be cut short. For now, she had it wrapped in a scarf. She’d told Shane she planned to go into town in a few days when she was feeling better to have one of the girls at the salon fix it for her.

  Her skin was blistered and peeling, with places that were red with the look of skin that needed many months to heal. Because of that, she was scrubbed free of makeup. He loved her that way.

  Shane’s landline rang and he stepped away to answer it. He spent several minutes on the phone before stepping back into the dining room to find two expectant faces looking at him.

  “That was Garret,” he said, still a little stunned. “They’ve arrested Aengus O’Malley for murder.”

  Phoebe covered her mouth with her hand, holding in a gasp, but it was the General who answered. “He’s the ex-husband?”

  “Yes,” Shane said. “They’ve had him on their radar, but when you said he might have overheard your conversation in the diner, they looked harder. Apparently, he didn’t have an alibi for the time of Fiona’s death or for the attack on you. Garret has spent the last few days tracking down leads and re-interviewing everyone on the block. Someone down the street thought they saw someone matching Aengus’s description about an hour before Fiona died, but no one on our block saw his car that day. It turns out, Aengus had parked two blocks over and walked.”

  “What? He was there? How do they know where he parked?” Phoebe never did have the patience to let a good story come out at its own pace.

  “Garret expanded his search and found neighbors who reported seeing the car. And,” he smiled now, shaking his head, “the idiot got a ticket. Garret’s officer just hadn’t put two-and-two together, but the ticket was on file.”

  “Why did he do it?” Phoebe asked, her eyes filling.

  “He claims to have done it for his daughter. Apparently, when Fiona sold her house to Elliot last year, Aengus became suspicious. This year, Fiona gave Elliot power-of-attorney and severely limited her own ability to withdraw funds from her accounts.”

  The General frowned. “Elliot is the younger boyfriend? Why would she do that?”

  “Because she was experiencing signs of dementia. A lot of confusion, swings in her emotions, large chunks of time missing from her memory. She had discovered she’d made several large cash withdrawals from the bank. She said she knew one of them went to the senior center, but she wasn’t sure what she’d done with the rest or why she didn’t have any records of them.”

  “So, it sounds like she was addressing the issue. Why did Aengus…” Phoebe didn’t finish, as though she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  “Because he didn’t trust Elliot. We had set up a trust that made sure money and property that Fiona didn’t need during her lifetime went to Emmaline and her kids, but he didn’t trust that Elliot wouldn’t spend all of her money before that could happen.”

  “Oh, that’s awful.” Phoebe shook her head.

  “How did he get her to take a fatal amount of her blood pressure medicine?” General Brophy asked.

  “It wasn’t her medication, actually. That’s how they got him to confess. That and the location of the car. When they got a warrant to search his house, they discovered he had a propranolol prescription as well. He was prescribed it for migraines, not for blood pressure, so his dosage was different than Fiona’s. When they searched the house, her pills were in his prescription bottle. He crushed his propranolol ahead of time and took it to Fiona’s house. It wasn’t uncommon for them to have a meal together. Even when they were arguing, they’d remained close. He made her tea and a snack, putting a small amount of the medication into each of the items. Then he took her medication home to use in place of what he’d given her from his bottle. He hoped suspicion would fall on Elliot since he was a pharmacist and would know the danger of propranolol causing shock and cardiac arrest.”

  “With her gone, everything she had left went to Emmaline?” the General asked.

  “Yes. Except the house, which she’d already sold.”

  “There are still a few things that don’t add up,” Shane said. “Garret found trace evidence of Rohypnol on the outside of Fiona’s prescription bottle. Aengus claims he knows nothing about that. He’s admitted to everything else, though. To breaking into the law office, to attacking you and starting the fire to cover his tracks.”

  “That’s strange,” the General said with a frown.

  “I agree,” Shane said. “Garret is going to ask the medical examiner to run the test again. In the meantime, they’ve got Aengus on murder one because of the premeditated nature of the crime.”

  They had to say goodbye to the General soon after. There were things happening at his post that only he could handle. Phoebe ran back in the house to get something for her father, leaving Shane and General Brophy standing on the sidewalk near the car that would take him to the airport.

  “I hate that I have to leave her. The job takes me away from her more than I’d like.”

  Shane looked over, startled at the confession, but found the General staring at the house as though he could see Phoebe inside. Phoebe had told Shane her dad had often been deployed when she was young, and she’d been left with her grandmother to raise her. Never once had Phoebe made it sound like she didn’t understand and respect the job her father did.

  Shane wanted to say something. Wanted to tell him how much Phoebe loved him, how she thought he was a great dad. That as far as she was concerned, her dad never let her down. Hell, he wanted to tell the man he thought he was the perfect dad. That even Shane could see the General was always there for Phoebe when she needed him, even if he wasn’t always able to come in person.

  He didn’t know how to form the words, how to say that, but he didn’t have to. The General turned and shrugged. “I have a feeling all fathers think they haven’t done good enough by their kids. It’s never enough for someone you love,” he said.

  Shane wondered if his father had thought that, and for the first time ever, he wished he could reassure his dad. All this time, he’d thought his dad wasn’t responsible enough for them, that he’d put his inventions and his ideas ahead of the family, and there were times that was
true. But looking back, Shane could see his father had loved him unconditionally. When Shane had messed up or made mistakes, his dad had been the one there to talk to him, to tell him it was all right to screw up now and again if you made it right and learned from it.

  He’d always thought his dad’s role in making him who he was today had been in motivating him to be better than his dad was. Now, he could acknowledge his dad had helped him be who he was today in so many more ways. He’d just been too angry to give the man the credit he was due.

  Phoebe’s bright smile hit him as she stepped back out of the house, a bag in her hand. “I packed you some snacks, Dad,” she said and Shane watched as the giant bear of a man pulled Phoebe in for a hug and a kiss.

  Then the General turned to Shane and offered a hand. “Take good care of her for me.”

  Shane swallowed as he returned the shake.

  “Aw, look at you two, having a moment.” Phoebe pretended to wipe tears from her cheeks and sniff. “It’s so moving.”

  “Wiseass,” the General said as he pulled her into a hug one more time.

  When he was gone, Shane walked with Phoebe into the house, taking her by the hand and pulling her onto the couch with him. He wanted to make love to her. To kiss every inch of her body and see that she was really okay. He wouldn’t do any of that. She needed to rest and he would let her, but they did need to talk.

  And, he was finding, he needed to touch her, hold her. He needed connection with her right now as though his soul needed the reminder she was here and safe. He stretched on his side on the couch, pulling her back flush to his chest and holding her.

  “I think I broke up with you.” Her tone was playful, like she’d given up on the idea of breaking up with him.

  “Yeah, we need to talk about that. When you were all hopped up on the good stuff at the hospital, you said the Junes told you something. I think I need you to tell me about that conversation.”