by Pamela Tracy
Neither put him in a good mood.
“You’re kidding.” Janie smiled as Candy Riorden and, yes, a boyfriend, came up, introduced themselves, smiled covertly at her and then disappeared into the crowd.
“I’m not. See the boy at the end of the buffet line?” He waited while Janie located a young man busily switching a full pan of steaming vegetables in for an empty one.
“That’s Samuel Pynchon,” Janie whispered. “The preacher’s oldest boy. What did you do to him? He looks ready to throw up.”
“I didn’t do anything to him, he did it to himself. And I’m aware that he’s the preacher’s kid,” Rafe whispered back. “I’ve known him since he was a baby. Maybe that’s why he felt comfortable asking me when I’d started dating you—”
Someone else interrupted them. This time, a dispatcher and her husband.
“You did tell him we weren’t dating, right?” Janie asked in a low voice after the dispatcher and her husband had walked away.
“No, I didn’t. It’s none of his business. Plus, I didn’t want to explain why we’re here together. Let him think what he wants. But then he mentioned that Brittney worked for Yano’s, which we—”
“Had already discovered,” Janie finished.
Jeff Summerside came up. He was one of Rafe’s newest hires, just three years on the force and rising through the ranks quickly, already chief of police. He kissed Janie’s hand, the one that didn’t hurt. It only took the tiniest narrowing of Rafe’s eyes to send Summerside to another table.
“Of course we knew Brittney had worked at Yano’s, but what we weren’t aware of until just two minutes ago, was that the preacher’s son had a thing for Brittney and he says she returned it.”
Janie took a good long look at Samuel. “He told you that, just now? That makes sense. Amanda said that Derek and Brittney weren’t a couple. I think we—or I, at least—kept lumping them together because he wrote about her.”
Before Rafe could comment, another officer stopped by to say hello. Rafe tried to smile, but he almost felt like he was at a Dean Martin roast, and that at any moment someone would get behind the mic and admit that the whole force had gotten together and determined that neither fine dining nor uninterrupted conversation was on the agenda for Rafe tonight.
Rafe carried on what he hoped was an intelligent conversation with the officer from Gesippi while he kept one eye on Janie, who was chatting up a guard from the jail division in Florence, Arizona. This particular man could down a polar bear with one arm but usually lost his tongue when faced with a female. Janie had him blushing but made him comfortable enough around her to remain coherent.
Hmm.
Rafe could stand on his chair and shout to the room that they weren’t a couple, but people believed what they wanted to believe. And for some reason, just about every soul on the Scorpion Ridge police force wanted Rafe and Janie to be a couple.
Before Rafe had a chance to whisper to Janie the rest of what he’d heard or even finish his first piece of garlic bread, the conversation at the table turned to a debate over the use of the M26 Advanced Taser.
Mitzy rolled her eyes and pretended to shoot her husband. He put a hand over his heart, winked and continued talking. Janie said that she wanted an M26 Advanced Taser to help keep her safe, and Rafe felt a lump in his throat that he couldn’t blame on the garlic bread. But just then Mitzy’s husband threw down his napkin and headed for the stage.
One thing for sure, tonight wasn’t going as planned. It would sure help if Janie Vincent was boring. Then maybe when his crew accused him of having more than a professional interest, he could at least pretend they were wrong.
Not that she was making it easy. In the last twenty minutes alone she’d managed to touch his hot buttons.
Rafe was territorial, and he was starting to consider Janie his territory, not just his responsibility. In his profession, he rubbed elbows with plenty of charming, attractive women. None came close to making him feel the way Janie made him feel.
He shouldn’t have invited her tonight. She would have been safer with her sister and brother-in-law.
He motioned for Chief Jeff Summerside and said, “I’ve got some things to do tonight. I’d like you to see Janie home and stick around until you’re sure she’s secure.”
Jeff seemed a bit confused but immediately said, “Yes, sir.”
Someone on stage called his name, and suddenly Rafe had two plaques in his hand: one an outstanding achievement award and the other a President’s award. He tried to act nonchalant, but winning an award felt different when somebody in the audience was clapping not for the sheriff, but for Rafe Salazar, the man.
* * *
GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY, Rafe could sleep for twelve hours straight. As sheriff, those opportunities were rare. Sunday morning the alarm sounded at just after six, and with ease born of practice—after only six hours of sleep—Rafe rolled out of bed.
Before working out, something he’d not been doing faithfully for the last month, or even eating breakfast, he called Jeff for a status report. He reported that while Scorpion Ridge didn’t have a clean bill of health for last night, the wounds were all superficial.
Except for Rafe’s.
He headed for the spare bedroom and started his regimen. Push-ups came first. With each crunch, he felt pain. Not from the hard floor under his mat or from the pull of his gut. He was suffering from an acute case of regret.
Had he put the brakes on a bit too hastily with Janie? She’d been the perfect date, especially for one who attended the function not as a guest but pretty much as a prisoner. For the entire evening, she’d charmed his men.
Charmed Rafe.
Then, at the end of the evening, when he’d handed her over to Jeff Summerside, she’d not only acted as if she understood but as if she didn’t care.
Rafe grabbed his jump rope and headed to the backyard.
So Rafe Salazar apparently was attracted to a woman who was not attracted to him. That was a first. He’d never had any trouble with women. It was discouraging them that often proved difficult.
Somebody should tell Janie.
After hitting a hundred jumps, Rafe went back inside and switched to some resistance weights. Up, down. Up, down. Of course, when Rafe reassigned Jeff and reinstated himself as the lead on the case, there’d be talk. Down.
He could take it.
Just before he hit the shower, he realized he’d broken out in a sweat, and somehow didn’t think the workout was to blame.
He hadn’t minded Janie’s I’m-not-interested act back when her sister and his mother were doing the matchmaking. He minded now, and agonizing over Janie almost made him late for church.
Great, not only was she distracting him at work but now she was affecting his faith.
After dressing, eating breakfast and taking a quick drive through his town, Rafe pulled into the church’s parking lot, choosing a spot that would allow him to exit quickly if he had to, and headed for the door.
He was blessed with three families: his mother, the police force and the church.
Based on the looks that followed the “good mornings” he received, most of the congregation were interested in his date last night. They considered it their right to pry into his personal business—small-town justice.
Miles Pynchon, the minister, stood by the door. He somberly clasped Rafe’s hand. “I hear my son gave you some new information last night.”
Rafe was somewhat surprised. Miles knew better than to bring up an ongoing investigation during church. Still, Samuel was Miles’s oldest boy, and this might be the first time one of his sons—he had four—was in a bit over his head.
“Were you aware that Samuel and Brittney were interested in each other?” Rafe asked.
“It didn’t occur to me to mention it,” Miles said.
“All the young men were enamored with her.”
Rafe nodded. He’d figured the same thing, but hadn’t realized that Samuel and Brittney had actually gone out together.
“Speaking of enamored,” Miles said. “I hear you had a date last night with Janie Vincent.”
“How’d you hear that?” Rafe asked.
Miles grinned. It didn’t reach his eyes, but then, he was probably thinking of his son. “You might want to help her out.” Miles glanced toward the foyer. “She’s not a veteran like you, and a few of our more curious members seem to have her cornered.”
Cornered might not be a strong enough word. Usually when the ladies of the church did a mass huddle, it meant someone was dying, a soon-to-be bride or a new baby.
He’d seen Janie at church only a few times with Katie and Luke. He guessed she was here today because Katie and Luke weren’t letting her out of their sight. As Rafe neared the huddle of women, two things happened. One, the ladies parted like the Red Sea to let him pass.
Fringe benefit of being the sheriff.
Two, the woman standing next to Janie stepped away from her. The woman was Angela Talbot. Two years ago, she’d been Rafe’s date to the awards dinner and a few other events. By the expression on her face, she’d realized why she hadn’t been invited to last night’s event.
He recognized pain when he saw it.
He hadn’t meant to hurt Angela, and truthfully, they both knew that if there truly had been a spark, it would have ignited years ago.
Not sure what to say, he just cupped his hand around Janie’s elbow and quickly guided her away.
“Thanks,” Janie whispered as they went into the main auditorium. “They’ve always welcomed me when I came, but not quite like that.”
The church’s old guard greeted newcomers, took food to the sick, organized going-away parties and all kinds of showers: baby, new home and wedding. Rafe knew exactly what they were thinking.
He just had no idea what Janie was thinking. He could, however, tell how she was feeling: broken and tired. Without realizing it, she was hugging one of her arms—the one that had borne the brunt of the fall. The bruising around her eyes testified that just six days ago someone had pushed her down the stairs.
Rafe didn’t bother to head for his customary spot in the church. He plunked Janie down in the nearest pew—center, next-to-last row—sat beside her and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I kept insisting to those ladies that I was fine, but they seemed to want more.”
Rafe wasn’t about to say that what they were really hoping she’d answer was a question they hadn’t really asked, the question of how she and Rafe were doing...relationship-wise?
The old guard wanted to throw a wedding shower.
Right now, Rafe just wanted to keep Janie alive.
“They mean well,” he finally said.
“I can see that.”
It was a good thing that was all she could see. He’d hate to think she already saw into his heart.
* * *
RAFE, THE MOST eligible bachelor at the Main Street Church, had just kidnapped Janie from the grip of the church ladies. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and she was sure the whole congregation was whispering, “That’s the young Vincent girl. Seems she’s finally made up her mind.”
Her sister certainly believed so.
Walking into the auditorium, Luke at her side, Katie wore a Cheshire smile. Unfortunately, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Katie was scared. She wanted Janie to stay at home, in a locked room, until they figured out who had killed Patricia and who had pushed Janie down the stairs.
“Hey, Rafe.” Katie sidled in beside him. “We wondered if you’d ever get here.” Meaning, Luke and I left Janie alone on purpose so you’d have to rescue her. What took you so long? Katie followed that with, “Any news?”
At least Katie did recall that someone had more or less put a hit out on Janie.
“No,” Rafe said. “So far, it’s been a quiet morning.”
Katie nodded. “You back on guard duty for the rest of the day?”
Janie waited. Jeff certainly had smooth ways about him. He opened car doors, offered coffee, and even listened to country music, but he didn’t make Janie feel completely safe, not like Rafe did.
“I never left.”
But he had. Something she’d done last night had spooked Rafe, something that had nothing to do with cop and civilian and everything to do with male and female. Enough so he’d turned her over to Jeff and found other things to do at the banquet. Jeff had done some muttering about priorities. Mainly he’d wanted to be with the girl he’d brought.
Before Janie could ask Rafe what the game plan for today was, a man stepped behind the podium, cleared his throat and announced a song number.
A minute later, Janie realized she might never listen to country music again. Rafe didn’t sing with gusto. No, like everything else, his approach to music was purposeful. He had a deep, rich bass. Deep enough to awe Janie; rich enough to make her close her eyes and enjoy.
The man certainly had plenty of hidden talents.
Of course, when one’s life was in danger, it was never a good idea to close one’s eyes for too long. Janie’s eyes were still closed when Rafe suddenly stopped singing. She opened them when the rest of the congregation’s singing staggered to a halt, too, even though the song wasn’t over. On the screen, the words still waited. The song leader’s mouth was open in a silent O.
Rafe quickly turned to Luke. “Don’t lose sight of Janie.” Then, with an ease most big men couldn’t quite master, he slid out into the aisle and faced the back of the auditorium.
Tommy Skinley probably didn’t see whose arms were reaching out for him. His tears were that thick. He also probably couldn’t hear the words of the congregation. He was too busy cursing. He had one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other pointed at Janie.
Unfortunately, neither words nor sobs stopped him from lunging at her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RAFE DIDN’T DOUBT for a moment that Janie was in danger. But the people of the congregation were in more danger as they stood between her and Tommy. The boy was in the middle of a meltdown and Rafe suspected some kind of stimulant was fueling the kid’s actions.
Worse, Rafe couldn’t tell if the kid had a gun or not.
His gut warned him that any loud noise would spook Tommy. So Rafe turned sideways, moved slowly and kept his eyes on Tommy. He motioned downward with his hand and then to the side. Most of the people in the church’s left and right sections got the crouch-and-go message and headed for the side doors.
Good.
It was the center section that was in trouble.
Janie’s section.
And she was in the back, quickly becoming a clear shot.
Come on, Luke, get her out of here.
But hindering Luke were the hundred people exiting the auditorium. The fact that most were glancing over their shoulders while pressing forward didn’t make things go faster.
Then, too, not everyone had moved out of the church. Some were frozen, unable to move, caught in the crux of their own fear. Others, especially the men, were unsure of the best action: should they go or stay and help? Rafe quickly gestured for them to go.
Luke finally got Janie headed for the exit.
Rafe focused then on the boy. “You don’t want to do this, Tommy,” Rafe said softly.
“It’s my fault. All of it. My fault.”
“And shooting Janie will change that?”
“I’m not going to shoot her. I...” Tommy looked confused. “You think I have a gun? Man, if she hadn’t read the stupid art book maybe this would have all gone away.”
“She read the art book after Brittney disappeared.”
; “No one needed to know.”
“Were you one of the men in the car?” Rafe asked, wishing he’d taken the time to check Tommy’s middle name. Suddenly Thomas Christopher Skinley seemed like a possibility.
“No!”
“Then, exactly what is your fault?”
Tommy answered at the exact moment Rafe got to him, bumping his legs apart and pulling his arms behind him. Quickly Rafe ascertained that the only thing in Tommy’s pocket was a bag of meth. Even as Rafe lamented his lack of handcuffs, Tommy confessed.
“I’m guilty of introducing Derek to my sister.”
* * *
TOMMY SKINLEY WENT to the hospital first. Rafe drove; Jeff Summerside sat in the backseat keeping Tommy under control. Which was difficult since Tommy was under the impression that he had superhuman strength. He even managed to give Summerside a bloody nose.
Great.
Luke, meanwhile, had promised to dog Janie’s every move. While Tommy appeared frightening, Rafe didn’t for a minute think he was Janie’s biggest enemy. For one thing, someone with serious intent would not have made his move in a full church and with no weapon. Tommy’s misstep had more to do with drugs than with forethought. Maybe they’d made Tommy brave for a minute, but they’d made him weak everywhere else. Compared to a year ago, Tommy was now underweight, his face somewhat pockmarked, his teeth starting to blacken, and he kept scratching at something invisible on his elbow.
The Scorpion Ridge hospital was just twenty rooms. Two elderly women from church called out to Rafe as he walked down the corridor to ICU. There was only one other person in ICU, an elderly man that Rafe didn’t recognize because of all the things hooked up to him.
He was fighting for his life.
Tommy was throwing his away.
Sitting up in the hospital bed, Tommy appeared closer to thirty than his true age of twenty-one. And he acted sixteen. He sneered at Rafe and turned his head when the nurse offered him a cup of something. Speaking to the wall, he attempted to tell her all the reasons he, personally, did not need to be in this hospital.