“Sorry to hear it.” Jack knew the man wasn’t looking for sympathy. He didn’t seem the type to complain without good reason.
“I’m glad you’re around. Not planning to stay in town by any chance, are you?” the chief asked.
“Afraid not. I’ve got a business to run.”
After encouraging him to report any further findings, Roundtree escorted him out. The young woman at the front desk—that would be Angie, Jack remembered—sang out, “Y’all come back now,” as he left.
Despite the chief ’s positive reception, he felt a deep foreboding. The news that Al Rawlins might have burned out a competitor had frightening implications.
The possibility that the head of the local fire brigade might resort to arson would be disturbing under any circumstances. The fact that he openly resented Casey, coupled with last night’s blaze on her property, produced a sense of urgency.
If Jack waited too long for the guy to give himself away, it could prove too late. But he didn’t know how to hurry things up.
He’d have to find a way. And if it required more than conventional police work, his position as a private security agent might come in handy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Realizing it had been nearly an hour since he dropped off Casey, Jack returned to the doctor’s office. He forced himself to go inside to find her, although he hated anything concerning doctors.
For himself, he avoided checkups whenever possible. He might get stuck with a needle, and the antiseptic smell brought back memories of his mother’s illness.
In the waiting room apparently shared by both doctors, a few people sat on the couches, but his wife wasn’t among them. “She’s with Dr. Smithson,” the receptionist said when he inquired. “You’re her husband, right? Go right in. It’s Room C.”
Although he considered begging off, Jack wanted to size up the man responsible for delivering his child. With a nod, he followed her directions.
At the door to Room C, he knocked lightly. A white-coated man in his late forties opened it. “Yes?”
“Jack!” Beyond the doctor, he saw Casey sitting on an examining table, wearing a short white robe that strained to cover her expanded belly. “I’m glad you came in.” She made introductions.
“Your wife’s doing very well.” The doctor picked up a file from the side counter. “She’s slightly dilated, one or two centimeters, which is normal at this stage of pregnancy, and the baby’s setting lower in the pelvis.”
Jack had no idea what that meant. “Is she in labor?”
Dr. Smithson maintained an earnest expression, although a slight wrinkling at the corners of his eyes indicated amusement. “No, Dad, although these are indicators that she’s getting ready. Delivery could still be a few weeks off or it could happen any day.”
Jack had never heard himself referred to as Dad before. He felt as if the doctor had mistaken him for someone else, a mature, slightly stodgy character from a television show who always knew the right thing to say.
“Your daughter’s got a strong heartbeat,” he went on. “Dad, would you like to hear it?”
Curious though he was, having such intimate contact with his daughter in front of the doctor didn’t seem right. However, the hopeful expression on Casey’s face gave Jack pause.
What could it hurt to listen for a minute? “Sure.”
The way his wife beamed dispelled his last doubt.
Dr. Smithson turned on a small machine and ran a device, apparently some kind of microphone, across Casey’s stomach. He flipped a switch and a rapid rhythm pulsed through the room.
In it, Jack heard the baby’s eagerness to be born and her yearning to open her eyes to a vast unexplored world. A million possibilities danced in that series of galloping heartbeats.
The doctor clicked off the instrument. “Well?” Casey asked.
“It sounds a little fast.” On a lighter note, Jack added, “That wouldn’t be because she gets nervous during doctor visits, would it?”
“An infant’s heart beats faster, about 120 times a minute, because it’s so small.” Dr. Smithson removed the device from Casey’s stomach. “The rate for a child at rest is roughly 90 times per minute. For an adult, it’s about 70 times.”
“Parents need to learn a lot about biology, I suppose. Otherwise they’re likely to screw up.” Although Jack had met far too many people who raised their children with careless disregard, he believed in doing a job right.
“Fortunately, nature takes care of things most of the time, but information can help you avoid unnecessary worry,” the doctor said. “I’ve recommended a couple of books on baby care and child development to your wife.”
“I’ve been studying them,” Casey assured him.
A tap at the door preceded Gail’s entrance. “Sorry to disturb you, but we’re running behind schedule, Doctor.”
“I wanted to make sure I answered all of Dad’s questions. Have I?” Smithson inquired.
“I can’t think of any more,” Jack admitted. “Thanks.”
After Smithson left, Gail lingered to make sure Casey had enough vitamins and to ask whether she’d been practicing her breathing. “I can come over after work to help you,” she added.
“That would be great.” Casey glanced wistfully at Jack, perhaps hoping he’d volunteer to coach her.
Part of him wanted to stay, to live up to the name Dad and to see Diane open her eyes on the world for the first time. But he felt a profound restlessness and longed to return to L.A., where he felt capable and in charge.
All this kindness and good fellowship, this cozy universe that Casey inhabited, appeared to Jack as a bubble that might burst if he said or did the wrong thing. Maybe for a while he could pretend to fit in, but sooner or later the darkness inside him would spill over. He wasn’t really Dad, no matter what anyone called him.
“If you’re worried about Casey, you needn’t be,” Gail assured him. “Dr. Smithson is the best obstetrician I’ve worked for, and you can trust me to keep a close eye on your wife. She and this baby are precious to all of us.”
“I can see that.” He clung to the reassurance, because it allowed him to do exactly what he wanted: to escape.
“You’re doing it again,” Casey said.
“Doing what?”
“Disappearing in front of my eyes. Drawing back from Diane and me.” Grumpily, she swung her legs over the edge of the examining table. Jack stepped forward to help her, but the nurse beat him to it. “I thought maybe when you heard her heart… oh, never mind.”
He wanted to assure her that the experience had been stirring. It hadn’t, however, transformed him into someone who fit neatly into a story-book family.
“By the way,” Gail asked, “did you ever find out who that lighter belongs to? Enid told me about it.”
“The police couldn’t find any prints,” Jack replied, glad for the change in subject. “Chief Roundtree’s as puzzled as I am.”
“I certainly hope it isn’t Dean, but I wouldn’t put it past him.” She drew a curtain that covered half the examining room, giving Casey the privacy to dress.
He explained about what he’d learned about her ex-husband. “Unless someone spots him or you hear anything directly, I think we can rule him out.”
“That’s a relief. I’d hate to think this was happening because of me,” Gail confessed. “Maybe it’s a transient, then, someone with mental problems.”
“Seen anyone like that around? I’d sure like to catch this guy before I have to leave.”
She shook her head. “I wish I could be more helpful. Now I’ve got to go help the other patients, but I’ll see you both later.”
“Thanks,” he said.
After she left, Jack searched for a topic of conversation while Casey finished putting on her clothes behind the screen. Finally, he said, “What’s this Spring Fling business? I saw a banner at the Civic Center.”
“It’s a fund-raiser for the library.” Her voice came through the curtain slightl
y muffled. “There’s a potluck dinner, a bake sale and a raffle. It gives people a chance to socialize and do good at the same time.”
“Sounds like fun,” he replied automatically, although he’d never been anywhere near a bake sale or a potluck dinner and had no desire to experience either one. “Why don’t they hold it on the weekend?”
“Local superstition.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “They used to schedule it on a Saturday and every time, it rained. Somebody suggested we try holding it midweek, and it worked like a charm.”
“The timing doesn’t hurt attendance?”
“In a town this size, no one wants to miss a big event.” Pushing aside the curtain, Casey emerged. “Although this year, I should probably skip it. I’m reluctant to leave the Pine Woods just when the prowler will be expecting it. With most of my tenants gone, too, heaven knows what he’ll do.”
A light went on in Jack’ s mind. He’d been seeking a way to become proactive, and here it was.
The man had taken advantage of the storm and, on other occasions, of the cover of darkness. He also seemed well-informed about activities at the Pine Woods, since he’d attacked Jack’s car the first night.
“Good,” he said.
“What’s good?” Casey asked.
“We should spread the word that Pine Woods is going to be empty on Wednesday night. I’ll fill you in later.”
He ushered her out of the room. Casey paused at the front desk to make another appointment.
They were on the way out when they ran into Mimi in the waiting room. “I took a few hours off work to bring Mom and Dad over here,” she explained. “Mom asked me to come along for moral support, although Dad doesn’t want me in the examining room with them.”
“What’s the matter with him?” Casey inquired.
Mimi glanced at the other people on the couches. It seemed to Jack some of them had stopped paying attention to their reading and were listening surreptitiously, and obviously Mimi gathered the same thing. “I’ll tell you outside.”
They stepped into the mild April sunshine. “He’s not seriously ill, I hope,” Casey said.
“Not in the physical sense.” Her friend folded her arms protectively. “He’s showing signs of senility.”
“But he’s only in his sixties!”
“My grandfather died of Alzheimer’s in his early seventies,” Mimi explained. “It might have started this early.”
Jack had dealt with mentally disordered patients during his police years and he knew such cases could be complex. “Other factors can cause similar symptoms. I presume they’re checking for that.”
Mimi nodded. “Dr. Engle’s going to run some tests. If he can’t find anything, he’ll refer Dad to one of the doctors at Vanderbilt University in Nashville.”
“What are the symptoms?” Casey asked.
“He’s become forgetful and irritable. He argues with Mom all the time and with other people, too.”
“Anyone in particular?” Jack prompted, and hoped his interest wouldn’t be interpreted as rudeness. But he hadn’t forgotten about Owen Godwin owning the land next to Casey’s—the same land Al Rawlins apparently crossed to go fishing.
It wasn’t Al with whom Jack had a quarrel, however. “He and Mayor Lanihan got into a fight over some issue they disagreed about years ago—Mom doesn’t even remember how it started—and now the families are barely speaking,” Mimi said. “It’s not only affecting him, it’s isolating my mother, too. She won’t take him to the Spring Fling because she’s afraid he’ll disrupt it.”
“That’s too bad,” Casey said.
Deciding they should start spreading their cover story, Jack added, “My wife and I are looking forward to the party. I hope you’ll be able to make it.”
“I don’t know. It would do my mother good to get out,” Mimi replied. “Maybe I can persuade her to come for a few minutes.”
Casey patted her friend’s arm. “I hope your Dad’s condition turns out to be treatable.”
“So do I.” The young woman blinked away tears. “I’d better go back in. Mom might need me.”
After she left, Jack helped Casey into the car. “Now tell me why you want us to announce that we’re going to the Spring Fling,” she demanded after he slid behind the wheel. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”
He should have known she’d figure it out. “I realized it might be a good thing if this perp decides to take advantage of our absence. The more people we tell, the faster word will spread.”
Jack backed out carefully. He’d noticed that the drivers of the town’s unusually large complement of aged pickup trucks and old clunkers didn’t pay much attention to where they were going.
“You want him to come by,” she reflected. “That must mean you’re going to set a trap.”
“In this kind of case, the guy will set his own trap,” Jack said. “We just have to keep our eyes open.”
“You mean we aren’t really going to the party?” She added quickly. “That’s okay, just so we catch him.”
“You bet we’re going.” Jack wanted his wife as far from any action as possible, although he itched to be the one who sprang the trap shut. “We’re going to be the prime distraction. The more visible we are, the better.”
“Like bait?”
“Not exactly, since we’ll be safely away from the property. That is, assuming I can work out someone reliable to cover for us.” Jack didn’t like improvising, but with luck Chief Roundtree would cooperate.
“Well?” Casey demanded. “Don’t keep me in suspense! What’s the plan?”
“I’m still working out the details,” he admitted. “Right now, all I’ve come up with is the general principle that we coax the guy into the open. Taking him down won’t be easy, given our limited resources and the fact that everyone knows I’m here to investigate.”
“We can do it,” Casey said. “I hate having this guy push me and my tenants around.” Her chin came up stubbornly.
Jack remembered how she’d plunged into the darkness with no weapon other than a camera. “Don’t try shooting from the hip. You wanted an expert, so you need to follow my lead on this.”
For a moment, he feared she might squawk. Instead, she nodded reluctantly. “But I don’t want this guy getting free rein to smash up my place. We’d better come up with a strategy that works!”
“Don’t worry. We will.”
* * *
THAT AFTERNOON when Casey arose after her nap, she moved quietly through the house, not wanting to disturb Jack. She spotted him in her office, intent on the computer, and stopped to enjoy the stolen pleasure of watching him.
She loved the way his hair, which always seemed to be slightly overgrown, hugged the back of his neck, one lock sticking out in a tiny gesture of defiance against his otherwise spruce appearance. Despite the informal surroundings, he wore a sports jacket, button-down shirt and creased slacks, evidence of a mind-set focused on business.
He was doing exactly what she’d asked when she phoned him—using his skills to catch their troublemaker. Maybe she didn’t have the right to ask for anything more. But the past few days had shown her that their marriage wasn’t over unless they allowed it to be. Why couldn’t he see how much she and their baby needed him?
In the doctor’s office, she’d had to fight the urge to jump off the table and give Jack a shake when he refused to show his excitement at hearing Diane’s heartbeat. The fact that he was falling in love with their daughter had been obvious to her and to Dr. Smithson, yet he kept drawing back.
There must be some way to reach him, but it didn’t seem likely that it would happen spontaneously. Maybe the answer was to formulate her own plan. While Jack arranged to catch a crook, she intended to catch him.
Nabbing the prowler, even though he might be an arsonist and a vandal, seemed less important than winning back her husband. Or, more accurately, than truly winning him in the first place, because she now saw the fundamental flaw that had doomed their relationshi
p from the beginning.
Jack had never fully committed himself. Between them lay a barricade of emotions as thick and high as a castle wall. Maybe, over the next day or so, he’d drop a clue to the inner thought processes he guarded so closely. She hoped so, because if she couldn’t figure out a way around his defenses in the next few days, she never would.
Noticing her, he closed his file. “Good, you’re awake. I’ve been going over some ideas for Wednesday night. Before I contact the chief, I’d like to get your opinion.”
“Sure.” Casey took a seat beside him. His excitement and pride in his work inspired her confidence, and she appreciated the invitation to review the plan. “So you’re going to involve the police?”
“I’ll have to. It’s a good idea to anyway, on general principles. Despite what you see on TV about private eyes butting heads with the cops, real-life investigators have to coordinate with the authorities,” he explained.
Casey wasn’t convinced Horace with all his infirmities or slapdash Larry could handle even a relatively simple operation. She hoped Jack would be running the show. But first she needed to know what it was.
“Okay, so we’re assuming this guy’s going to act while he knows we’re at the Spring Fling,” she said. “What do we do? Have somebody hide and watch the property?”
“Basically, yes, but one person can’t handle this alone. To begin with, you can’t see the whole place from a stationary post.”
“You need a whole bunch of people?” she guessed.
“If I had unlimited manpower, I’d suggest we tail our suspects, but that isn’t feasible here,” Jack answered patiently. “What I’m going for is a combination of several observation posts plus roving patrols.”
Casey blinked. This sounded way beyond complicated. “How will that work?”
“I’ll ask the chief to take up a station in full view outside the community center,” Jack said. “People won’t be surprised to see him there in case of a security problem, plus that should help convince our perp that he can safely sneak out here.”
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