The Sharpest Edge

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Around dinnertime. Maybe six or seven. Something like that.”

  “Did the call come from the office?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did he say who called?”

  Helen’s voice lost some of its energy. “No. I guess I’m not being too useful, am I?”

  “You’re very helpful, actually. Let me know if you think of anything else.” He paused. “How are you holding up?”

  “Fine. We’ll get through this. It’s the kids I’m worried about.”

  Helen’s kids were still pretty young, and they’d adored Max from the start. To them, he was Dad. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to swing by later today and see them.”

  “No. You find out what happened to him. We’ll be okay.” Helen hesitated. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything. You name it.”

  “Can you ask Kim to stop by the house tonight for dinner? I need to speak to her about Max.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Kim’s not really in the right frame of mind for that at the moment.”

  Helen sighed. “Will you try?”

  “Maybe.” He heard some stirring behind him and turned around. Kim was sitting up, her eyebrows furrowed in sleepy confusion as she watched him. “I have to go. Thanks for calling.”

  He disconnected. “Ready to head out?”

  “I’m not in the right frame of mind for what?”

  “Having dinner with Helen and the kids.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t argue and he sighed, realizing that a part of him had been hoping she’d change her mind. Thanks to the letter, he understood why she felt the way she did about her father, but it didn’t mean he thought she was right.

  “Give me a second.” He looked up the number for the phone company and ordered a report of all incoming calls to Max’s house on the night of the accident. He gave them his personal fax number, then hung up. “Let’s go. I’ll fill you in on the way home.”

  Home. Interesting choice of words. He didn’t even know what home was anymore.

  He grabbed her duffel bag, swung it over his shoulder and settled his hand under her elbow. She didn’t pull away, and they headed out of the station.

  BY THE TIME Kim got to Sean’s, she was too wired to sleep. It was almost noon, the sun was out and she couldn’t stop thinking about the pain in her palm. “I can’t believe you think Jimmy had something to do with my dad’s accident. He was in jail.” Yeah, okay, so he knew people on the outside, but really! She didn’t have space in her coping capacity to think of a band of loyal Jimmy followers.

  “I’m guessing.” He grabbed her bag from the backseat. “Come on in. We both need some sleep.”

  She followed Sean up the walkway. He lived in a log cabin all alone in the woods. Not a neighbor in sight. If no one knew they were there, the isolation was good because there were no nosy people to notice her. If Jimmy found them, then the isolation merely meant that she could scream all night and no one would hear her. No one would come to her aid.

  Cut it out, Kim! She had to find a way to stop freaking herself out.

  Sean opened the door and punched the code to disarm the alarm. It was at least ten digits long. “I changed it when I moved in,” he said. “No one knows it.” He let Kim in, then shut the door and reset the alarm again. “Welcome to my palace.”

  The cabin was charming. Logs made up the exterior walls, there was a huge stone fireplace, a homey open-concept kitchen with a rag carpet and gorgeous pine cabinets. The overstuffed denim couches had red plaid pillows, and the recessed lighting cast a warm glow on the rooms. It was the cutest place she’d ever been in. “You decorated this?”

  “No way. It came like this. It’s the vacation retreat for some couple in Boston, but they’re not using it this year.” He headed toward a door at the rear of the family room. “Bedroom’s in here. You can have it.”

  She followed him through to the bedroom. It was on the first floor and had a couple of big glass doors. “Hmm.” How could she sleep open to the woods like that? So vulnerable and exposed.

  He tossed the duffel bag on the bed. “You don’t like it?”

  “Anyone could come through those doors. Isn’t there a loft or something?”

  “You’ve seen the whole place.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Maybe we should stay at a hotel.”

  Sean came over to her and set his hands on her shoulders, kneading softly. “I’ll be in the next room.”

  The next room seemed awfully far away with the puncture wound in her hand throbbing. She was so tired of being afraid. The only time she felt safe was when she was right next to Sean. She chewed her lower lip. “On the couch?”

  “Yes.”

  She pulled away and walked over to the window, staring out at the trees. The sun was breaking through the branches, casting shadows on the deep woods. It could be totally creepy, with so many places for a killer to hide while he watched her, or it could be beautiful and romantic. With Sean beside her, she was almost tempted by the latter. “It’s pretty.” Appreciating its beauty wasn’t like falling down a slippery slope of romantic yearnings, was it? A good compromise.

  He came to stand beside her. “Yeah.”

  “I forgot how beautiful it was here.” In her memories the town and resort had been dark and dreary. Since she’d been back, all she could think about was how isolated she felt. But now, with Sean by her side with a gun in his holster, she felt safe enough to breathe, to notice things she hadn’t noticed before.

  “I never forgot,” he said quietly.

  It seemed so normal to be in a bedroom with Sean. Comfortable. She took a breath and let it out. “You don’t need to sleep on the couch.”

  He said nothing.

  “I mean, I don’t think we should make love or anything, but I think we could manage to share the same bed without mauling each other, don’t you?”

  He looked at her. “You’re serious?”

  She turned away and grabbed her bag. “If Jimmy comes in through the window, you can’t do me any good if you’re on the other side of the bedroom door.” She didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t give him a chance to say no. “Besides, I owe you after walking out on our wedding. I figure giving you the bed instead of forcing you to take the couch should make us even, don’t you?” She kept her voice light, wanting to remind him of the tension between them, because heaven knew, if he kissed her as he had in the mailroom, she wouldn’t have the willpower to stop him.

  And she most definitely did not want to make love to Sean Templeton.

  IT TOOK HER less than ten minutes to shower, leaving her hand stuck out of the shower curtain so she wouldn’t get the bandage wet. She barely had the energy to throw on a T-shirt and boxers. She was so tired, she almost fell asleep leaning against the wall of the shower. Forget about drying her hair. Why bother? Sean had seen her looking hellacious plenty of times and had been planning to marry her anyway. It was way too late to try to impress him.

  She paused for a moment before opening the door to the bathroom, trying to steel herself for the fact that he was probably in the living room putting sheets on the couch.

  But when she opened it, he was in the bed, sleeping on his back. His upper body was bare, his arm thrown over his face to block out the sunlight. The thin, beige curtains were little protection against the noon rays. His gun was in its holster, slung over the headboard, and his body was relaxed in sleep.

  Her stomach did a little flip and she sucked in her breath. He wasn’t the teenager she’d almost married. Not by a long shot. Muscles ripped in his stomach, and hair curled on his chest. His biceps was flexed where it rested across his face, and there was a long scar on the back of his arm. He was all man, and she wanted him. And this didn’t feel at all like the call of a lost first love. It felt like a woman wanting a man.

  Maybe she should sleep on the couch, not him.

  She walked over to the bed and lifted the covers, scooting in carefully so as
not to shake the bed and wake him. He grunted but didn’t move.

  Kim curled up on her side so she could watch him, clutching her bandaged hand to her chin. His chest rose softly with each breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. He still hadn’t shaved and the whiskers on his chin were long. She trailed her fingers over his jaw, remembering the first time he’d let her shave him. She’d cut him six times and he’d still let her try again a week later.

  She sighed.

  Then Sean jerked and moved his arm, his eyes at half mast as he peered sleepily at her.

  She smiled.

  He closed his eyes again and shifted his arm in that move he used to do when he wanted her to snuggle against him. She wiggled forward until her head was resting on the front of his shoulder. Then he curved his arm around her and pulled her close, his fingers buried in her hair.

  She closed her eyes and fell asleep, breathing the familiar scent of the man who’d never left her heart.

  Chapter Eight

  Sean woke up wrapped around Kim’s body. Her hair was draped across his face, her legs entwined with his. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck and her body was pressed against his. He inhaled, taking in her familiar scent, running his hand softly over her hip. She felt good.

  Then her cell phone rang and he realized that was what had woken him. He cursed and slid out of the bed, diving for her mobile phone before it could wake her. “Hello?”

  No one answered.

  “Hello?” he repeated. A glance at Kim told him she was still asleep, so he took the phone into the other room.

  “Who is this?” It was a man’s voice and Sean tensed.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Alan Haywood. Who are you?”

  Ah, her “friend.” Something unfamiliar surged through Sean and he decided that the man had a wimpy voice. “Kim’s sleeping right now and I’m not going to wake her up.”

  Silence. Sean grinned, knowing the things that Alan was imagining with Sean answering Kim’s phone while she was asleep.

  “Well, I’m at her house now and she’s not here. Where is she?” Alan said.

  Sean immediately frowned. “Her house in L.A.?”

  “No, her house in Ridgeport.”

  “Is she expecting you? She didn’t mention it.”

  “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but if I don’t hear from Kim in one minute, I’m going to assume she was abducted and call the cops.”

  Sean tensed. This man was taking responsibility for Kim’s welfare? Forget it. The job was taken. “I’ll have her call you when she wakes up. She was up all night and she needs her sleep.” He frowned. “And why aren’t you in L.A.? I thought your job was to watch the apartment for Ramsey and get him collared for parole violation.”

  “How did you know that?” Then there was a small sound of exasperation. “You’re the ex-fiancé cop, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “How do I know you aren’t dirty?”

  “You don’t, but if I was, that comment would be enough for me to disappear with Kim. Don’t show your hand too soon or you’ll lose.”

  “Who are you on the phone with?”

  Sean turned to see Kim standing in the bedroom doorway. She was wearing boxers and a T-shirt, her hair was disheveled and she looked adorable. Then he looked down and saw the scar on her thigh and he felt the urge to smash the phone into the wall and kill Jimmy Ramsey. Too angry to talk, he strode across the room and lifted the leg of her shorts to the top of her scar. It went all the way to her hip.

  He swore and Kim pulled away. “Don’t.” She shoved his hands away and turned to hide her leg from view. “Is the call for me?”

  Damn Jimmy for making Kim ashamed of her own body. He remembered when she used to run around wearing a little bikini without a care in the world. He handed her the cell phone. “It’s Alan. He’s at your house on the lake.”

  She paused. “He’s in town?”

  “Uh-huh. He thinks I abducted you and he’s threatening to call the cops. You might want to clarify that.”

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “He gets a little protective of me.”

  Sean couldn’t keep the scowl off his face. “You sure you’re just friends?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Of course.”

  “You might want to make sure he knows that.” Yeah, sure, it was none of his business what she was doing with Alan, but it sure felt like Sean’s business.

  “Thanks.” She took her phone into the bedroom, shutting him out with a slam of the door.

  Gone was the bonding of last night. Was it because of her leg or because the intimacy had reminded her that he was so vile that she’d kill herself to get away from him? Maybe last night’s snuggling had been nothing more than residual tension from finding a knife in her bed. Vulnerability had sent her into his arms and he’d been stupid enough to think that maybe it meant something else.

  Lesson learned. From now on, Kim was a civilian and he was a cop. Yeah, he’d read the letter, but it only explained why she’d left. It didn’t change the fact that she simply hadn’t loved him enough to stay.

  That damn letter.

  He wished he’d never read it. Had never seen Joyce condemn him in her own handwriting.

  Sean gritted his teeth. As close as he was to Max, he’d thought he was close to Joyce, as well. But she’d hated him enough to turn her daughter against him.

  For his whole life, he’d believed in that family and the love they had for one another and for him. One by one, each belief he had was being destroyed.

  Alan could have Kim. Sean had had enough.

  The fax machine beeped and Sean turned away, grateful for an excuse to think about anything else. When he pulled the papers out of the machine, he nodded with grim satisfaction. They were the phone records from Max’s house. Somewhere on that list was the call from the person who had attacked him.

  KIM PULLED ON her jeans, hiding her scars beneath the denim. She was embarrassed that Sean had seen them. They were awful and ugly. How could she have forgotten and worn shorts to bed with him?

  “Kim? What’s wrong?” Alan asked. “Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Nothing’s wrong.” She zipped up her jeans and tried not to look at the bed, still rumpled from their snuggling last night. “Why are you in Maine? Who’s watching my place in L.A.?”

  “I had to come. I’m worried about you.”

  “For crying out loud, Alan, I have an ex-military cop sleeping two inches from me. What do you think can happen to me? If he can’t save me, you certainly can’t.” She jammed her feet into her sneakers and smashed a brush through her hair.

  “Nice mood you’re in. And what do you mean, he’s sleeping two inches from you?”

  “Oh, give it up, Alan. If I was having sex with him, which I’m not, it would be none of your business.” Was she in a bad mood or what?

  “Since when do you shut me out? I flew three thousand miles to help you. I’m not the enemy.”

  Crap. He was right. “Listen. I’m sorry. I’m a little strung out.” While she changed the bandage on her hand—just a little red mark on her palm that didn’t do justice to the emotional damage it had wreaked—she told him about the knife in her bed and the suspicions about Max’s accident. By the time she was finished, Alan was as cranky as she was and glad he’d come out to protect her.

  Maybe he couldn’t save her from a psycho with a knife, but there was one thing he could do. “Why don’t we meet at the camp office in half an hour to go through my dad’s financial files. Maybe if we can figure out what’s up with him and the camp, we can determine whether this has anything to do with Jimmy.” She gave him directions and hung up, then prepared herself to face the man she’d dreamed about all night.

  She walked into the kitchen to find Sean sitting at the kitchen table with a granola bar, a sports drink and a fax. He was still wearing nothing but his boxers and he looked even better vertical than he had sprawled out in t
he bed last night. What was wrong with her? Why was she reacting this way to him? It had been ten years, for heaven’s sake. She couldn’t still be yearning after the man from her past, could she? She cleared her throat and opened the fridge. Anything to avoid being caught gawking at him. “What are you reading?”

  “Your dad’s phone records.”

  She found a yogurt and turned to find him watching her with a grim look on her face. “And?”

  “And he got a call from the Loon’s Nest at 7:30. It lasted about thirty seconds.”

  “So someone lured him there, then somehow got him into the boat and crashed it?”

  “I think we’re missing part of the story, but yes, I think that’s the gist of it.”

  “Which number at the camp?”

  He held the sheet out and she looked at it. “That’s the guest phone in the lounge, which is open twenty-four hours a day. Any guest or staff person, or even anyone who wanders in, could use it.” She frowned. “So it’s not that helpful.”

  “Except now we know someone wanted him over there.” He pointed to a second listing. “Another call from the camp, forty minutes later.”

  “That’s my dad’s office.”

  “I checked with Helen, and when I mentioned it, she said he had called her after he left to ask her what he was supposed to pick up at the grocery store. She didn’t know what number it came from, but it looks like he made it into the office.” He cracked his jaw, his eyes sharp and intense. “I want to have another look around his office.”

  “For what?”

  “Signs of a struggle. Anything.”

  A struggle. “You think he got knocked out before he even got in the boat?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe once he got down there. I don’t know, but I want to look around.” He rubbed his chin. “I want to check out the boathouse, too. Maybe have another chat with that kid who works there, Tom Payton.”

  “While we’re doing that, Alan can go over the office files.”