The Baby's Bodyguard

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “I didn’t know about that you and Jack having had problems, either. When I saw you so happy with everything perfect, it was like a slap on the face.” Sandra’s edginess and the pallor of her complexion spoke volumes about what she must be enduring. “I know I shouldn’t stoop to being jealous, but right now I have a hard time keeping my emotions in line.”

  “It took a lot of courage to come here this afternoon.” Casey’s heart went out to the woman she’d loved as a child and a teenager. “I’m glad you did.”

  Coffee dripped noisily into the pot. Leaning on the counter as he waited for it to finish, Jack regarded Sandra coolly. “Are you undergoing treatment while you’re here?”

  Casey feared she might take offense, but she gave no sign of it. “I finished five weeks of rehab in L.A. One of the points they emphasized was that you need to get away from the people and circumstances that encourage you to use drugs. That’s why I came back. Dad offered me a job working for him.”

  “So you’re planning to stay.” Casey indulged in another cupcake. “That’s going to be a big change.”

  “Yeah, I had a lot of stupid dreams, didn’t I?” Sandra rested her chin on one palm. “The boys around here thought I was so darn beautiful, I figured those Hollywood producers couldn’t resist me. Was I an idiot or what?”

  “You gave it a try,” she said. “Otherwise you’d have spent your whole life wondering about what might have been.”

  Tears brightened her friend’s gaze. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

  “She’s good at that.” Jack brought two mugs of coffee, along with milk, sugar and an extra glass for Casey.

  Sandra spooned sugar into her drink. “If you don’t mind me changing the subject, people at church were talking about some prowler around here. Larry Malloy says the guy squirted you with a hose. I hope you weren’t hurt.”

  “Only my pride. I was madder than a wet hen.” As she filled the glass with milk, she couldn’t resist adding, “And probably wetter, too.”

  “Officer Malloy brought it up?” Jack pulled back a chair and joined them. “How did you happen to be talking to him?”

  “He used to work for Dad after school, so he came over to speak to us at church.” Sandra pushed a wedge of lank hair behind one ear. “I asked him how his job was going and that’s when he told me.”

  “He didn’t exactly turn the place upside down trying to figure out who did it,” Casey said. “That’s why I called Jack.”

  “You’re some kind of cop, aren’t you?”

  “I used to be. I do private security now,” he explained. “I’m conducting my own investigation at my wife’s request.”

  “Any suspects?” As Sandra took a sip, the mug shook slightly.

  The drugs, or her need for them, must still exert a strong influence, Casey thought sympathetically. She wished she could go back in time and warn her friend—but then, she had warned her. Sandra had chosen not to listen.

  “A few names have come up. Larry Malloy’s, for example.” Jack watched her closely.

  “Larry? That’s silly.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll bet I know who you’ve been talking to—Prune-face Purdue.” The unkind nickname had been muttered behind Enid’s back for years by some of her less-motivated students.

  “You don’t like her?” he asked.

  “She always favored the really smart kids. And Casey, because she worked so hard. But Prune-face thinks she’s above us ordinary mortals. Did you see her this morning? She looked down her nose at me like I smelled bad.” Sandra shrugged. “Oh, who cares?”

  “Did Officer Malloy say anything about her?” Jack probed.

  “No. But she tells people he let the air out of her tires one time, even though it could have been any of the kids who flunked her class,” she replied dismissively. “Anyway, when would Larry have time to prowl around here? He’s busy working two jobs.”

  “Two?” Casey queried.

  “He’s a part-time watchman at the glass factory.” She rose to pour herself more coffee. “He’d prefer to be full-time at the police department, but Dad says the town’s budget won’t stretch that far.”

  “Has your father mentioned anyone he suspects of being the prowler?” Jack spoke offhandedly.

  “Why do you mention Dad?”

  “I thought he might have seen the intruder. Doesn’t he like to fish around here?”

  “I have no idea,” Sandra said. “You’re the one who’s investigating. Who do you think it might be, aside from Larry?”

  Jack made a vague remark about checking possibilities. He also cited Gail’s ex-husband, although he explained that the man had remarried and moved to Hawaii, which was news to Casey.

  He showed them both a printout photo of the man. Neither had seen him.

  After downing one more cupcake, Sandra excused herself to go help her mother with dinner. “I didn’t want to leave things on such an unpleasant note between us,” she told Casey. “I’ll be seeing you around. Jack, are you staying long?”

  “A few days. I can’t spare any more time away from work.”

  “Too bad.” She didn’t sound sorry, though. “I’d better hurry before it pours. It’s getting pretty dark out there.”

  They said brief goodbyes. Casey wished they’d had more of a chance to talk about things that really mattered, such as how Sandra felt about the past and what lay ahead for her. But perhaps her old friend wasn’t ready to have such an intimate discussion, especially not in front of a man she hardly knew.

  “She took a lot of interest in the prowler,” Jack observed as they cleared away the cups.

  “I figured it was just idle curiosity.”

  “Maybe so.” Jack waved her back to a seat. “Is there any place to order pizza around here?”

  “No, but I’ve got one in the freezer.” She’d bought the kind with extra cheese, for the calcium.

  He set about preheating the oven and preparing a salad. Casey loved the way he pitched in and fixed dinner. Jack had always taken the initiative with meals. He’d once explained that he’d had to do that while growing up or go hungry.

  As she watched, her mind replayed the conversation with Sandra. “I didn’t like the way she talked about Enid. I know Sandra’s struggling, but she seems so agitated and negative, even resentful. She never used to be like that.”

  Jack tore up lettuce for a salad. “She isn’t the person you used to know. Don’t trust her.” He spoke the last sentence with emphasis. “You’ll never know whether it’s her talking or the drugs.”

  “But she’s clean!”

  “It hasn’t been long enough for her to be sure from one hour to the next whether she can stay off them,” he said. “Maybe she came here to apologize. Or maybe her father sent her to find out if we’re on his trail.”

  “He wouldn’t do that and neither would she!” Casey flared. “I grew up around these people.”

  “I’ve more or less ruled out Dean Fordham,” Jack said. “All the others on my list are people you know and most of whom you grew up with.”

  “It might be a transient,” she insisted.

  “And if it isn’t?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “If I can’t catch this guy before I leave, you’re going to have to stay on guard. I have to prepare you to protect yourself. Just remember, you’ve got the baby to think about now.”

  Casey didn’t want to be suspicious of everyone around her. Although she’d always understood that she and Jack viewed the world differently, she’d believed that in time he would come around to a more optimistic attitude.

  It saddened her to realize that, right now, his point of view had to take precedence. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

  “Even with Sandra?” he pressed.

  “Sandra would never…” She halted, the words hurt me dying in her throat as she remembered the angry words thrown at her earlier.

  “Her first loyalty is to her parents.” Jack rummaged through the cabinets until he found a cookie s
heet for the pizza. “Never forget that. If it comes to a choice between you and her family, they’ll close ranks against you.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?” she asked.

  “Very long and very painful experience.” Removing the wrappings, he plopped the pizza on the metal sheet and thrust it into the oven.

  More than ever, Casey wished she could take Jack into her arms and make the bad feelings go away. But it wasn’t in her power to do that. And maybe it never had been.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Thunder and lightning bolts that lit up the living room woke Jack during the night. Electrical storms being rare in Southern California, he found this one both fascinating and awe-inspiring.

  Rain hammered the roof, adding to the din. Surely by now Casey must have awakened, he thought, but when he went in to check, he found her sleeping.

  As he stood in the doorway, a flash illuminated the figure beneath the quilt. She lay on one side, curled to accommodate her shape. The mounds and valleys of the covers and the spill of long hair brought back vividly the sight of her in the bathtub that afternoon.

  He’d been struck by Casey’s natural vibrancy and the silky texture of her skin. His entire body had responded to the realization that it was their lovemaking that had filled her belly with a child. To his surprise, the sensations had stimulated him beyond restraint.

  Taking a deep breath as he studied his wife in the darkness, Jack recalled the intense pleasure of her stroking. He felt himself coming alive again.

  He wanted to share with her the same wild exhilaration. Bringing each other to climax without being able to consummate their passion the traditional way seemed intensely intimate, a shared enterprise. Except that they hadn’t fully shared it.

  Jack wished Sandra hadn’t barged in. Although he admired Casey’s desire to help her old buddy, he not only didn’t appreciate the interruption, he disliked the woman at a personal level.

  As a police officer, he’d come to detest druggies. They lied, betrayed their friends, stole and tried to pull everyone around them down to their level. Sure, he knew some people recovered, but he didn’t want Sandra around his wife.

  He didn’t trust Sandra not to take advantage of Casey’s loyalty. The fact that he might be powerless to prevent it only made him resent the woman more. Once he returned to California, who was going to protect Casey, not only from her assailant but from herself ?

  Outside, lightning flashed again, sending tree-shadows through the room. The strangeness reminded Jack of his first nights in a foster home, listening to unfamiliar noises in a room that wasn’t his. A neon sign at a convenience store down the street had burned through his thin curtains, disturbing him with memories of the outlets where his father had bought booze.

  Troubled, he exited the bedroom with the growl of thunder following him like a threat. Since becoming an adult, Jack had refused to be intimidated, so he threw on a jacket and went onto the front porch.

  Drifts of rain undulated in the wind, parting at the porch roof and sheeting around him as if he stood beneath a waterfall. Trees swayed and bent, their leaves sending up a swishing noise.

  Abruptly, the storm split the dark sky with renewed fury and brilliance. From a fork high up in the heavens, lightning cascaded to earth, followed moments later by a boom that shuddered through the porch.

  Uphill, in the direction of Enid’s house, an eerie flush caught his eye. For a moment, as he turned, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing through the trees and rain, and then he made sense of the flickering red-and-yellow glare. Judging by the height above ground, he guessed a tree had caught fire.

  Jack had no idea how much threat a lightning strike posed amid heavy rain. But the blaze appeared dangerously close to the cabin.

  He ran into the house and dialed 911, using the kitchen phone so the dispatcher could fix his location. Did a town this small even have a 24-hour dispatcher? he wondered, and was relieved when a brisk female voice answered.

  Jack described what he’d witnessed. “You’ve got a volunteer fire department in Richfield Crossing,” she told him. “I’ll notify them at once.”

  “How long till they get here?” he asked.

  “About half an hour.”

  Curiosity prompted him to ask, “Aren’t you in Richfield Crossing?”

  She explained that she worked from a regional headquarters that relayed emergencies to seven counties. Jack thanked her and hung up.

  He dressed quickly and went to wake Casey. It took a long time to pull her from sleep, and even longer to make her understand that the lightning had ignited a blaze. “I need Enid’s phone number,” he said. “I want to make sure she’s awake.”

  It only took minutes for lethal levels of smoke to fill a house, not to mention waves of heat scorching enough to kill. The half hour before the fire truck arrived could be an eternity if she failed to awaken or became trapped.

  Casey sat up sluggishly. “You think the fire’s at Enid’s cabin?”

  “I’m not sure. It might be a tree, but it looks awfully close.” Jack didn’t dare linger a moment longer. “I’ll tell you what. You call her and warn her to get out. I’m going up there to make sure she’s okay.”

  Alert at last, Casey grabbed her robe from a nearby chair. “I’ll come too.”

  That was all she needed, to go tromping around in the pouring rain. “For once in your life, listen to reason!” he snapped. “Stay in the house!” In a milder tone, he added, “Get some coffee going for the firefighters. And for Enid, in case she has to come here.”

  “Okay.” She swung her feet to the floor with a trace of awkwardness. “Jack, I promise not to do anything stupid. Just keep me posted, all right?”

  “You bet. I’ll take my phone.” He went out, throwing on a jacket and adding an umbrella and flashlight he found in the house.

  The storm engulfed him the moment he stepped off the porch. Despite the umbrella, rain slashed against his face. Overhead, lightning swelled. Heaps of newly fallen leaves and twigs crunched on the driveway beneath his shoes.

  Jack listened instinctively for the wail of sirens, but there was no sign of a fire truck yet. Considering that the volunteers had to dress and assemble before they could head this way, he hoped the estimate of half an hour wasn’t overly optimistic.

  Ahead, flames wavered in midair, distorted by the rising ground and torrents of water. At times they seemed to subside, then flash back quickly. A wooden house such as Enid’s would provide ready fuel unless it had been treated to make it fire-resistant.

  At last he came around a bend and got a clearer view. The fire had almost engulfed a craggy tree, one limb of which overhung the roof. So far, the blaze hadn’t spread but it might at any moment.

  He hurried along a bark-strewn pathway. At the door, he pounded hard. “Miss Purdue! It’s Jack Arnett!”

  When no one answered, he tried the knob. Locked tight. From the interior came the sound of the phone ringing, probably Casey trying to rouse the occupant. She failed to respond.

  Maybe Enid had gone away for a few days, although she’d made no mention of planning a trip. Jack stepped back, and saw her car still in the carport.

  Any number of factors could prevent an elderly woman from responding. She might have taken a sleeping pill or fallen while trying to flee.

  Descending from the porch, he circled to the back, where he tried to peer inside. In the uneven glare from the flames, he couldn’t make out much.

  The tree blazed and crackled. Jack kept a wary eye on the jutting branch and the sparks showering onto the wet ground.

  The rear door held fast. A faint light, apparently from the bathroom, provided enough illumination to show that everything appeared normal and undisturbed.

  When he reached the bedroom window, a spurt of lightning showed him a form lying motionless on the bed. She was there, all right. What had happened to her?

  Furiously, he banged on the window, and hoped he wouldn’t have to break it. Finally, the figure s
tirred and groped around as if dazed.

  Jack rapped again. “Miss Purdue!” he called. “The tree’s on fire! You need to get out!”

  She sat up stiffly and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. After giving him a nod, she grabbed her bathrobe and shuffled out of the bedroom.

  “The window!” he yelled. “Come through the window!”

  She ignored him.

  Darn it, why didn’t she let him help her out by the shortest route? As a police officer, he’d learned that fire victims often died trying to reach a door when they could easily have escaped through a window.

  But he could do nothing about that now. Dodging a falling cluster of burning leaves, he pushed his way toward the rear exit.

  The elderly woman emerged seconds later, pulling an overcoat around her. Anxious eyes peered at him from beneath an umbrella. “What’s happening?”

  “Lightning hit your tree.” As he assisted her away from the cabin, Jack informed her he’d called the fire department. “Casey tried to reach you. Why didn’t you hear the phone?”

  “I put in earplugs so the thunder wouldn’t keep me awake,” Enid said over the patter of rain. “It didn’t occur to me it might be dangerous. I never expected anything like this.”

  They took refuge inside a small gazebo in the yard. Rain slanted in from the sides but at least they were clear of the downpour.

  Through the gloom, Jack spotted someone moving toward them. Surely Casey hadn’t disregarded his instructions! With relief, he noted as the figure approached that it was too tall and thin.

  The arrival turned out to be an old dark-skinned man in a cape and broad-brimmed rain hat. “Miss Purdue? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She introduced him as Matt Dorning, the one tenant Jack hadn’t met.

  They shook hands. Despite his advanced age, Matt had a firm grip.

  “Let’s get a hose and see if we can’t put this thing out before the house goes up,” Jack suggested.

  “Right you are.”

  They hurried through the storm to the back of the house. Matt uncoiled the hose and fed it to Jack, who aimed the hand sprayer into the tree.