Someone to Trust

by Aiken, Ginny

  And then he deliberately leaned forward to press a kiss on her forehead. The sweetness of it sent her senses reeling. Slowly, she smiled as he turned and went back inside.

  The cookout was great. Everyone came prepared and the committees gelled almost on their own. True, everyone had plenty of experience with the Fall Fest and they all assumed their same responsibilities as for the seasonal event. Still, many odds and ends needed attention beyond those obvious necessities and people stepped up to the plate.

  Coach Colby took over the games. His wife, Abby, chose to coordinate the arts and crafts sales booths. Maggie Reams, the pastor’s wife, would chair the bake sale, and Gail Sowers, the new church secretary and librarian, would gather donations for the book sale. The eight Sunday School teachers volunteered in one capacity or another, while Alec, Cate and Rand agreed to coordinate the entire event.

  At nine-thirty, Cate hit overload and began to fade. Folks packed up to leave, their now-empty food containers washed and dried by the efficient Alec and his kitchen minions. He’d marshaled the cleanup from the start.

  “It’s the least I can do,” he’d said. “I’ve roped all of you into this madness. I owe you.”

  From her vantage point in the middle of the kitchen, she could see not a speck of sauce, not a potato peel, not a cup or spoon out of place. “Thank you so much,” she told Alec. “Everything’s better than when you got here.”

  “I aim to please, ma’am. Besides, Beth’s got me well trained. She’d kill me—or at least yell my ear off when I call to say good night—if she heard I didn’t clean your kitchen to her meticulous standards.”

  Cate laughed. “You’re a neat freak yourself and you can’t deny it, Alec. So don’t blame your poor pregnant wife.”

  “Hey! I like peace in my life. If clean’s what Beth wants, clean’s what Beth gets.”

  Abby elbowed her husband. “Did you hear that? Let’s see if you can pick up some pointers, buster.”

  The coach grumbled, but wore an ear-to-ear grin.

  Finally, Rand and Alec were the only ones left. Rand waved a sheaf of papers. “We got a lot done. Are you busy tomorrow afternoon? Want to go over—”

  A buzzing cut him off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Moments later, a frown lined his brow and he slapped the phone shut. “Sorry, guys. Fire out on Ardmore Road. I should go.”

  As Rand gathered his tools, Alec took off the apron he’d borrowed, then stepped back into the kitchen to hang it on a hook by the door. Back in the living room moments later, he nodded to Cate. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Finally, Rand stood alone in the living room, ax, wedge and chainsaw in hand, a somewhat reluctant expression on his face. Cate couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t already bolted.

  “Thank you so much for your help. And I still want that wood splitting lesson.”

  He groaned.

  Cate chuckled. “Oh, go keep your men in line.”

  “Actually, they know what they’re doing. Your father’s a fine chief. He has them well-trained. I hardly have to do anything, but it is my job. Will you be okay? You look exhausted.”

  She leaned against the doorframe, her every muscle tired, her head swimming, a faint wooziness threatening to drop her to the ground. “It has been a long day—a long couple of weeks. I think I’ll crash for a while on the couch in the living room. At least, until the end of the news.”

  Rand glanced at the TV set, then back at Cate, his voice gentle, his expression concerned. “Make sure you do go to bed, though. Otherwise, you might wake up in worse shape than when you started out.”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks again.”

  Cate locked the door behind Rand. Silence echoed throughout the house—unusual, since the walls usually rang with the sounds of life. She missed the kids. But she would never have accomplished anything for the benefit fund-raiser had Lindsay and the twins been around.

  She wandered back to the living room, clicked on the TV and turned the volume to low, then grabbed her Bible and turned to the Psalms. Fifteen minutes later, she realized she hadn’t focused at all. She was tired, sleepy, that strange lightheadedness still with her, worse than before. And it didn’t help that her thoughts keep turning to Rand. And that kiss.

  And the lack of a goodbye kiss. What was up with that?

  Was Rand doing good cop, bad cop—all-in-one arson investigator? Or had they really made progress?

  Cate yawned, then scootched down lower on the couch until she lay curled under the cozy chocolate wool throw, her head on the tapestry pillow her mother had made years ago.

  If Rand spent more time working with her instead of against her, being nice instead of suspicious, she would find herself losing her head…her heart.

  If things continued down this path, she might find herself in love with the man she’d seen today, trusting the man who’d helped chop wood, who hadn’t talked down to the twins, who’d pitched in and helped plan a fund-raiser. This was a man with whom she could spend time, one with whom she could share her life.

  This was a man she could love. For the rest of her life…

  She yawned again, exhaustion overpowering her, unable to fight the stranger slumber that lured her ever more seductively by the minute. Her eyes closed, almost against her will.

  Whoever had thought setting fire to a pile of leaves on the side of a country road was a good idea deserved to have their hair singed off. The blaze had come dangerously close to the Hodges’ farmhouse. The family might have been hurt or killed had they not been late picking up the kids from the sitter after the parent-teacher conferences the parents had attended at the middle school.

  Now, Rand wanted nothing more than a shower and his bed. In that order. And with no distractions.

  But then his phone rang. It was Joe Caldwell, who should have been asleep in his hospital bed.

  “What’s up?” Rand said in greeting.

  “I’m not sure, son. I tried calling Catey, but she’s not answering. That girl never lets the phone ring like that.”

  “She’s probably sleeping. When I left the house about an hour ago, she said she was going to lie down in the living room to watch the news before heading to bed. I warned her she might sleep through the night there if she wasn’t careful. She probably didn’t hear your call.”

  “I’m telling you, Rand. That doesn’t sound like her. A pin falls and she wakes up. She’s always been like that, ever since she was little.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll run by the house and check on her on my way home. We just had a little incident out on Ardmore, at the Hodges’ place. I’ll have her call you so you can rest easy and go back to sleep.”

  “Sounds good.” The relief in Joe’s voice was palpable. “Sorry to bother you like this, but you’ll understand the day you have yourself a couple of kids of your own.”

  Rand laughed. “Hey, at the rate I’m going, looks like I’ll be passing on that mixed pleasure.”

  “Nah, you won’t. There’s a girl out there somewhere, just right for you. You’re going to have to quit working so many hours to let her find you, though.”

  Rand instantly thought of Cate. “Bite your tongue, Boss. My life doesn’t need that kind of complication at this time.”

  “Aw, go on. Go check on Catey. And get yourself some rest.”

  “I’ll try. See you tomorrow.”

  Ten minutes later, he drove up to the large white house again. When he saw the living room lights still on, an odd feeling came over him. The news had ended a while earlier. Had Cate just slept through the broadcast?

  He went to the door and rang the bell.

  No response. In the background, the murmur of the TV spoke volumes. He rang again, longer and with greater insistence this time.

  With the same result.

  And that’s when he smelled it. A peculiar, rotten-egg smell.

  Gas!

  He fisted his hand, pounded on the door, called out her name.

  Nothing.

/>   He ran to the window three feet from the door. Through the filmy white sheers, he could make out the flickering lights of the TV, the couch and, under a blanket, Cate curled up, fast asleep.

  He hoped.

  The smell grew stronger.

  He flipped open his phone and dialed 9-1-1. While it rang, he kicked in the glass. Cate didn’t move. Carefully, he broke out the jagged shards that remained on the window frame as he gave the dispatcher the details.

  Cate needed him.

  He crawled through the window, not even pausing when a sliver of glass scratched his skin. “Cate!”

  She didn’t move.

  Heart in his throat, he ran to the couch, scooped his arms under her slight frame and brought her up close. She was warm and while he could still feel her breathing, it was uneven, labored, a struggle to draw in life-giving air.

  Had he gotten to her soon enough?

  “Please! Please, please, please!”

  He ran and didn’t bother to open the door, giving it the same treatment he’d given the window, and burst into the night air. Insurance would pay for his sins.

  He could focus only on the precious woman in his arms. And the need to know what—or who—had caused the deadly gas leak in her home.

  TEN

  Four hours later, after the gas company had turned off the supply to the Caldwell home and he’d had Cate rushed to the ER, Rand sat in the uncomfortable brown armchair in Cate’s hospital room and watched her sleep. He’d ridden the ambulance to the ER and his guilt had grown with every mile the vehicle covered.

  If there was one thing he’d learned about Cate Caldwell since he’d come back to town, it was that she loved her father, Lindsay and the twins. She’d never do anything to hurt them. How could he have thought she was behind all this?

  Someone had tried to hurt—kill—Cate. His instincts practically screamed it at him.

  A representative from the gas company had stayed behind at the Caldwell house to go over every inch of the gas-delivery system. Soon enough, Rand would know where the leak had originated. Until then, he wasn’t letting Cate out of his sight. It was the least he owed Joe.

  And Cate herself.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if his suspicions might have pointed the wrong someone’s attention her way. If that was the case, how would Rand atone for the harm he’d unwittingly caused her—a woman he admired, a woman he cared for, a woman he was coming to love?

  “You asked us to call you as soon as we found the leak,” the gas company representative told Rand an hour later. “It was nothing more than a burner on the stove. It was left on, but the flame had gone out. From where we’re standing, it looks like a careless mistake.”

  Rand weighed the man’s words. “A careless mistake…”

  “Happens more often than you might think, Captain. And the Caldwell’s stove is old. Perfectly usable, you understand, but it is old and maybe the knob didn’t twist all the way off.”

  Or someone intentionally didn’t twist it all the way. Plenty of possible culprits had been through that kitchen earlier that night.

  “Thanks for the call,” Rand said.

  After he hung up, Rand held the phone in his hand, weighing his options. He could call Hal or Ethan, but what were the chances either one would have checked the stove for fingerprints? Twenty or so sets would have shown up after the cookout, including Rand’s.

  On the other hand, the cleanup crew had scoured every inch of the kitchen before calling it a night. Could someone have wiped down the stove to remove evidence of tampering?

  Sure. Someone could have done just that. But who would have done it? And why would they have targeted Cate?

  The only possible reason was the drugs. Did she know more than she realized about the drug culture in Loganton? Could she somehow connect the three soccer players and their supplier? Had she seen anything that might identify the person who’d set up Sam’s operation in the theater’s basement?

  Or, as Rand feared, had his presence at her side alarmed the culprit? Had the dealer worried she might reveal his identity just by answering any of Rand’s pertinent questions?

  Rand glanced at the too-still figure on the bed. Cate looked sweet, young, incapable of committing a crime. He again felt guilty for doubting her and worried that he’d become as jaded as he’d feared after years of living in the mire of crime. He’d seen evil where evil didn’t exist and wasted valuable time. And now Cate was in a hospital fighting for her life.

  Could he ever forgive himself? Could she?

  Cate awoke to a sore throat, a weird chemical taste in her mouth and an encompassing sense of disorientation. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings, to clear the dizziness and remember what had happened. All at once, the memories slammed back with full force.

  She’d been exhausted—or so she’d thought. It turned out, according to the ER doctor who’d woken her with questions and tests, she’d come close to asphyxiating because of a natural gas leak in the house. The doctor said her father had tried to call to say good-night and when she hadn’t answered the phone, he’d turned to Rand. Rand had come over, pulled a swashbuckling hero stunt and saved her life.

  She wished she’d been awake to see that.

  Now here she lay in a hospital room, leashed by an IV to the metal-railed bed, her body sore and even more tired than she’d been on the couch at home. She squirmed, looking around the small room, and her gaze landed on the man uncomfortably scrunched into the pleather-covered armchair by the window.

  Rand had fallen asleep, although Cate had to wonder how he’d managed that. His long frame sprawled mostly off the chair, his neck twisted to one side, his head drooped onto the ridge of the chair’s back. He’d crossed his arms over his broad chest and he’d propped his ankles on a small trash can.

  Deep emotion moved her. She would never forget the sight of him there, just as she’d never forget he’d saved her life.

  As she studied his handsome features, he stirred. His blue eyes opened and before she could look away, he caught her studying him. For once, she didn’t chicken out. She stared right back.

  And while she couldn’t quite describe what happened much less what caused it, something changed between them right then. Nothing would ever be the same.

  Unspoken feelings, emotions not yet understood or accepted, the recognition of what might yet come to be. The stark hospital room shimmered with promise. Cate’s heart took hope.

  There was probably some truth to the old saying that a person who saved another owned a small bit of that rescued life. This was now personal, between her and Rand—between a man and a woman. She knew she could trust him with her life.

  Once Cate went back to sleep, Rand let himself relax again. He’d woken up to find her staring at him, those rich brown eyes warm, questioning, inviting…something.

  He’d wanted to respond, to reach out to her, to acknowledge what existed between them.

  As strange as it was, he knew things had changed. Maybe his recognition of the likelihood of her innocence had freed him to experience his emotions, to accept evidence of hers. He didn’t know for sure.

  But he knew he couldn’t walk away unless Cate was safe. Until he knew no one wanted to do her harm. Until he could prove to anyone and everyone she’d had nothing to do with Sam Burns’s meth lab.

  Yes, he wanted to prove her innocence rather than guilt. An unusual position to be in because he’d always wanted nothing more than to find the truth. This time, he wanted the truth to be all about Cate’s innocence.

  Rand sighed, stood and stretched his arms almost to the ceiling. He’d never slept in a more uncomfortable position, but it was all for a good cause. With another glance at Cate, he turned and slipped inside the small bathroom behind his miserable chair.

  Minutes later, as he washed his hands, a strange sound in Cate’s room startled him. A muffled groan, a rustle of fabric.

  He yanked open the door and the sight that met his eyes shocked him.

/>   The dark-clad intruder leaning over the bed, holding a pillow over Cate’s face, bolted. Rand followed.

  He had all the answers he needed.

  As Rand raced after Cate’s would-be killer, they sped past the nurses’ station and the stern woman at the computer cried out.

  “Gentlemen!” She stood and glared. “Stop! You can’t run.”

  “Call the police!” Rand yelled over his shoulder, intent on catching his black-hooded prey. “He tried to smother Cate Caldwell. Check on her!”

  When he turned the corner, the door to the stairs closed with a soft slap. He yanked it open, but found the landing empty. The intruder’s footsteps echoed in the stairwell as he pelted down. Rand tore after the man, but his heart remained up in Cate’s room. In the second before the killer had left, he’d seen Cate’s struggle against the smothering pillow.

  She’d be fine.

  He’d probably scared off the person before any harm was done.

  Probably.

  A handful of floors down, he heard a door open and close again. The attacker had fled to the hospital’s main lobby, where there were sure to be other people, even at this hour, people with whom the killer could blend in. He would likely disappear in plain sight. With nothing more than a flick of a hand to drop the hood from his face, the black sweatshirt would no longer make him stand out. Rand couldn’t just accuse anyone wearing a dark top.

  Frustrated, he noticed that no one seemed hurried, much less in mid-flight. Either Cate’s attacker had blended in with the folks in the lobby, or he had gone straight to the door and left in the handful of seconds it had taken Rand to exit the stairwell. At this point, it would be useless to try and identify the perp. He’d have to wait and see if the hospital’s surveillance cameras had caught anything more than the dark blur Rand had seen.

  What were the chances the cameras had caught features obscured by the hood the man had worn?

  Rand struggled with the urge to catch the guy and punish him with a well-placed fist. But that urge separated a professional from the criminals he caught. He’d be far better off doing his job, investigating, gathering evidence.