by Aiken, Ginny
“Really?”
“Really.”
A sense of lightness flowed through her and she stumbled back into her chair.
Thank you, Jesus. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I figured you’d want some good news to brighten your evening.”
“You have no idea.”
The nurse laughed, insisted she did and hung up.
Cate sat with the phone receiver clutched tight in her fist, certain she’d crumble and fall if she tried to stand. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been since she’d answered Neal’s call about her dad. Maybe Dena had known what she was talking about after all. Maybe Cate had been under more stress than she realized for a lot longer than she’d thought.
The metallic ring of the old-fashioned turnkey doorbell jangled her out of her thoughts. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath spurted out in shallow, nervous puffs. With every ounce of determination, she rose and pushed away from the table. She had to get a grip. Bad news had made her as tight as a violin string. Now, however, she couldn’t let good news turn her into a noodle.
But when she got to the door, nerves threatened to rattle her again. Rand Mason stood on the front porch, as handsome, strong and confident as ever.
She braced herself. “Hi—”
Twin tornadoes sped up the stairs behind her. She winced. “Hey! Keep it down, you guys. I’m trying to talk here.”
“Sorry” floated to her, and soon the sounds of the kids chattering overhead told her they’d probably stay out of the way—for a minute or two at least. She turned back to Rand. “What’s wrong?”
He dragged his gaze back from the top of the stairs and for a moment, seemed to consider his answer. Then he smiled, but his smile didn’t reach his gaze. “Is that a greeting or what? But I guess I deserve it after our lunch. I might have come down on you a bit hard.”
“Might have?” She shook her head and offered a conciliatory smile of her own. “Sorry. I realize you have a job to do. It must be a delayed reaction to everything that’s happened.”
“Gotcha. I can understand how much it’s stressed you out.” He shrugged. “That’s why I’m here. I figured you might want a hand at this point.”
“A hand?”
“Sure. With the kids. You have a job, Joe’s in ICU—”
“On his way out.” She lifted the phone receiver she still held. “I just hung up with the hospital. They’re moving him to a regular surgical floor in the morning.”
“That’s great news. So glad to hear it.”
“Anyway, I can handle things from here on in—”
“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to do it all alone. And I hear you’ve just taken on the teen girls’ youth group.”
“Someone’s been gossiping.”
Reed laughed. “Your name was posted on the leadership board at church. I noticed when I went to the men’s Bible study last night.”
“You’re in that study?”
“No…” He shook his head, flattened his lips, shuffled his feet. “No, I’m not.”
Her question had made him uncomfortable. She wondered why, but felt she had no right to ask.
When the silence between them grew awkward, he went on. “They wanted me to speak on fire safety issues in the workplace and at home. A couple of the guys are business owners and everyone needs basic knowledge in the house.”
“As you can imagine, we have more extinguishers around here than a fireworks factory and Dad thinks a smoke alarm is the decorative statement. We’re all set.”
“That’s not why I’m here—”
CRAAAAASH!
Rand lunged for the stairs. “Whoa!”
Cate groaned and did the same.
“Aunt Catey!” Tommy wailed. “Robby kicked the soccer ball into the hall closet mirror.”
“Did not, fungus foot. I didn’t kick it into the mirror. It sorta…um…rolled away from my foot and into the mirror.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Nana-nana-naaaah-nah!”
If it weren’t for the mess she had to clean up, Cate would have laughed—so long as the boys couldn’t see her. But tonight exhaustion threatened to crumple her to the ground.
“That,” Rand said, humor in his deep voice, “tells me it’s a good thing I came. Don’t you think it’ll go better if we split the job? You can deal with your Beckham wannabe, and I can take over broom duty.”
Rand’s offer tempted—oh, how it tempted—and at that moment, Cate couldn’t come up with one single, solitary reason to refuse him.
He gave a nod toward the commotion. “I’ve missed enough of the kids’ lives while I was away. If you’ll remember, they’re my cousins…second cousins? Once removed? Something like that.”
His confusion made her smile. “I do forget, especially because you’ve been gone for so long. Beats me what the father’s cousin is to them—officially speaking, that is.”
“So, will you share your dustpan?”
She took the first step up. “Knock yourself out. It’s hanging from an organizer behind the kitchen door. The broom’s right there, too.”
Rand saluted her, then strode down the hall. Cate continued up the stairs, enveloped in a sense of the surreal. She’d always resented Rand in high school—he’d been Mr. Perfect. And at lunch the other day, he’d flat-out told her he suspected her participation in a meth lab and a fire. And yet, tonight he’d shown up…to help her? And she hadn’t shut the door on him?
Did he ever throw her off-kilter…
And not just because of his suspicion. This Rand, the one who understood what she was going through, who’d come to her aid, had her reacting in ways she never would have thought possible. This Rand was too attractive for her own good, too dangerous.
She feared she was falling under his spell, well-recognized back when they were both in high school. All the girls had been gaga over him. Cate imagined grown women were, too.
She sighed. She wanted to give him a chance. Most men ran away from women with kids. What sane woman would send away a great-looking guy who’d just acknowledged he’d been tough on her and who wanted to shoulder some of the care for her trio of munchkins?
Even if the man in question was her once-upon-a-time nemesis, Cate wouldn’t turn him away. Heaven help her, she was too curious about him.
If he hit her again with his suspicions, she’d show him the door. Until then, she’d enjoy the company of someone willing to help, someone who smiled in the face of the havoc created by her three charges. Someone with beautiful blue eyes.
As Rand sat at the Caldwell’s kitchen table after a bedtime snack with Cate and the kids, he had to admit that the children seemed healthy, well-adjusted, happy, and while quirky and rambunctious, well cared-for and much loved. He could hear Cate upstairs talking to them, trying to get them settled into bed.
Cate struck him as a puzzle. There was no denying the appealing woman she seemed to have become, with her rich, wavy brown hair and big, dark eyes. Her easy laughter tickled a dark corner of his heart and she hadn’t skimped on the humor, even while dealing with the hallway mess. She’d teased the twins and Lindsay, reinforced her rules and done it all in a way the kids had received well and even accepted. Lindsay and the twins loved her, just as she clearly loved them. Anyone could see it in their interactions. But could he trust Cate?
Still her disturbing presence at the scene of the fire, and the photos. As of a few hours ago, more evidence pointed to her. How did she fit into that picture?
As soon as he had the opportunity to break the news to her, he’d probably find out.
He’d asked Ethan and Hal to let him tell her about the body at the theater. He wanted to see her face, her expression, gauge her reaction when he told her.
So here he was. In Cate’s kitchen. Waiting for her to listen to bedtime prayers—how weird was that? Cate Caldwell, praying. The bedtime prayer routine made him uncomfortable. Rand didn’t get the God thing. If
there really was an all-powerful Almighty God, why did He let such hideous things happen in the world He’d created?
Cup in hand, Rand left the kitchen and wandered through the downstairs rooms. The Caldwell home, a lovely, stately, older place, had wonderful moldings and rich hardwood floors, and the living room boasted an old fireplace with original tile and a classic mantel.
Rand could almost see Joe in the big leather armchair, his feet up on the matching ottoman, jazz on the stereo, a biography in his hands. In fact, one of those biographies was still sitting on the small side table next to a stack of photos.
Rand’s curiosity got the better of him. But the minute he fanned through the pictures, he froze. An image of Cate and Sam Burns greeted his gaze. And there was a letter with the photos.
He started to read.
Sam had written about her waiting for him, how they belonged together, how they’d be reunited soon now that he’d done his time. That didn’t sound like they’d had no contact, as Cate had said.
How was she going to refute this?
Unreasonable though it might be, Rand felt betrayed. He wanted Cate to be as innocent as she said she was.
This had never happened to him before—he’d never cared personally for anyone involved in one of his investigations. It threw him off, big time.
The depth of Rand’s disappointment surprised him as much as the strength of his earlier need to know who Cate was now. Why had it mattered so much? Had it just been for the sake of the investigation? Or had it been for the sake of his cousin’s kids?
He sighed. His need to know probably had everything to do with the pretty woman who’d come out to the fire. The daughter who’d worried about her hero father. The aunt so devoted to three orphaned youngsters.
That woman touched a part of him Rand would rather keep out of reach.
He checked his watch. She was taking a long time with those prayers.
When Cate came downstairs ten minutes later, he followed her into the kitchen, gave her the time to pour a glass of iced tea and then sat across from her. She took a long drink, placed the glass on the table, laced her fingers and finally met his gaze.
“Thanks for your help tonight, Rand.”
“I have to confess, Cate. The kids weren’t the only reason I came by tonight. I’ve got questions for you. And information to share.”
She jerked as though he’d stabbed her with a pin.
He continued. “We have a positive ID on the corpse. Do you want to revisit your answer about how long it’s been since you last had contact with Sam Burns?”
At first, she frowned. Then comprehension dawned.
She shook her head, her gaze fixed on Rand. “Are you telling me Sam…died in the fire?”
He nodded. “Dental records match. It seems Sam didn’t waste much time after his release before going right back to his old tricks.”
Unless she was an accomplished actress, his news came as a surprise, which he hadn’t expected. Not after the letter he’d just found.
“So when was the last time you talked to Sam?”
Her eyes flashed. “I told you already. The last time I had any contact with him was right before the accident.”
So she was sticking to her story. Fine. He’d try another tack. He pulled Sam’s letter from his pocket and held it up.
SIX
As he waited for Cate to answer, the color drained from her face. Her hand darted out and clenched his wrist.
“Look!”
Her hoarse croak made him turn, but he saw nothing. Rand turned back. Her big brown eyes still stared over his shoulder, her features drawn and pale, her breathing a series of quick, shallow sips.
“What? What are you looking at?”
Her fingers dug deeper into his skin. Her other hand rose and the finger with which she pointed out the window shook. Again, Rand looked where Cate indicated, seeing nothing of note. But he couldn’t accuse her of pretending. Her fear was so great it radiated off her in waves.
“A man…” Cate’s voice shook. “The window.”
He shot her another look, then turned. “Are you sure? I can’t see anything.”
She shook herself. “Not…not anymore. But he was there. I saw him, for just a flash of a second.”
Rand stood and walked to the sink. He leaned over the spotless stainless rectangle and stared out. By the light of the moon, he only saw the shadowed shapes of shrubs and the double garage at the end of the drive.
He faced Cate again. “There’s nothing there. Are you sure—”
“Of course, I’m sure!” She pushed away from the table and marched over to him, glaring. “I’m not crazy nor am I a nutty character in some movie about ghosts. There was a man staring in the window. I know what I saw. Just like that car that followed us home from church.”
Rand blinked and shook his head. “Car? Followed you? Why didn’t you report it?”
She blushed. “I hoped I was imagining things. Just being paranoid after the attack at the theater. But now I know I saw what I saw. A car followed us to Marly Wooten’s house after youth group—she’s one of the girls in my group. And I saw a man stare in that window not five minutes ago. Someone is after me.”
Rand didn’t know what to believe. She could be a fabulous, Oscar-worthy actress. On the other hand, someone could be following her. She might have seen something that threatened someone.
“Only one way to know for sure.” He headed for the back door. “Do you have a light out back?”
Her jaw tight, a fine line across her forehead, she nodded, went to the switch plate near the hallway arch and flicked up the bottom toggle. Through the window and the glass half of the back door, a golden glow penetrated the dark.
“Let’s go check it out.”
Rand gave a thorough scrutiny to the flower bed beneath the kitchen window. To his shock, the shrub’s branches were twisted out of shape and a partial print of a running shoe could be seen in the rich, dark earth.
He shot Cate a look. Fear tightened her features. He reached in his pocket and dialed 9-1-1.
She shuddered. “It feels rotten to be right.”
An hour later, after Hal, Ethan and Rand had gone over the backyard with halogen lamps and evidence-gathering crews, the two law enforcement officers went their way, and Rand walked Cate to the front door.
It was time to go—past time, really—but he found himself unable to leave. He turned to say goodbye, and the fine line between her brows sparked a twinge of concern.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Of course. I have to be. Dad and the kids need me.”
She struck him as fragile, likely to tip over at the lightest breeze. But he knew there was more strength to her than that. Still, the stress had done a number on her.
As he stared, she seemed to draw on inner reserves. She stood straighter and pasted on a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. And thanks for your help. With the kids, sure, but especially with…”
Her voice died off as she waved toward the back of the house.
Her gratitude left him wanting to do more. Starting with wrapping his arms around her. The urge was so strong, he couldn’t fight it off, so he went with it.
“Oh!” she said on a breathy gasp.
He should have released her, but she felt so good in his arms. And he knew no one was going to hurt her while she stood there at his side. As the warmth of her breath brushed his neck, he knew it was time to go—for real, this time.
He stepped back, his arms awkward at his sides. “Well…ah…it just seemed like you needed a hug.”
Her eyes, already wide and staring, opened a fraction more. Great. He really had to leave before he made a fool of himself.
“Okay!” His voice sounded too cheerful, even to him. Beat it, Mason. Now! “So…I’ll see you. And let me know if anything else scares you…happens. You know.”
Irritated at his clumsiness, he spun and jogged down the front steps and to his car at the cu
rb.
“Fool, fool, fool!” He should have focused on the intruder. He’d had a professional reason to linger. But then he’d gone and wrapped his arms around her. What good was that going to be for their investigation?
Someone had been in Cate’s backyard, but whoever it was hadn’t left much evidence behind. True, they’d found a partial print from a man’s size-ten running shoe, but matching it would present a challenge.
Hal, Ethan and Rand had questioned Cate again and she’d told them about the car following her home. While her answers had seemed to come easily enough, she’d kept her emotions and expressions under tight control after her initial shock. Rand hadn’t been able to get a good read off her and he doubted Hal or Ethan had done much better either.
The question now was whether Cate was involved with the meth dealer or whether she presented a threat to him. So far, questions continued to pile up. A discouraging lack of answers plagued their investigation.
While they did have a witness to the original fire, they weren’t too sure what that witness had really seen. One of the high school senior girls who’d gone to see the film had stayed behind, waiting for her ride. She’d given them a vague description of a man she’d seen. But any number of men might have been in the vicinity of the theater for legitimate reasons that night.
They couldn’t discount the possibility she was trying to cover her true reason for lingering later than she should have by concocting a story about a man near the theater’s back door.
The lack of answers was driving Rand crazy, especially because he’d failed to extract any from Cate. Because of that he didn’t feel he had a better handle on her.
He hadn’t eased his mind about the kids either.
He had, however, against his better judgment, noted the sparkle in her dark brown eyes and the light sprinkle of cinnamon freckles on her straight nose. He’d especially noticed, and appreciated, her quick smile throughout the earlier evening, when they’d spent time with the kids.
She had a self-deprecating sense of humor and yet there was plenty of strength behind the easy smiles and the obvious determination to care for the kids.