by Karen Young
“Hello, Sheriff. Rachel and I were just taking a breather.” His laugh sounded a little forced. “A little of that band in there goes a long way.”
Jake’s features could have been carved from granite. After a long, hard look at Ron, he turned to his wife. “Rachel?”
She stood up. “I’m tired, Jake. Can’t we go home now?”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
He would have ushered her past Ron without another word, but she refused to be hustled away like a naughty child. She pulled her arm free, speaking to Ron as she fell into step beside Jake. “Good night, Ron. I’ll see you Monday.”
THEY DROVE THE ENTIRE TRIP home without a word. Jake was furious. The air inside the car vibrated with his rage. Rachel fixed her gaze on the view through the side window of the car, her chin at a defiant angle. She didn’t care if he was mad, she told herself. It was nothing new lately. He’d been mad at her ever since she’d accused him of neglecting the search for Scotty. He’d treated her with about as much warmth as he would a stranger in their house. Less, maybe. He would have smiled at a guest. He would have spent a little time with a guest. Besides eating together—which they’d been forced to do because of Michael—he’d made himself scarce. Tonight was the longest he’d spent with her since that night.
He followed her into the bedroom they’d once shared. “What were you trying to prove tonight?”
“I don’t want to talk tonight, Jake. I want to go to bed.”
“We need to talk whether you feel like it or not. I want an answer, and I want it straight.”
“Stop. This is not an interrogation and I’m not one of your suspects.” She shot him a sarcastic look. “Besides, you wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear, would you? Think of your image.”
For a long moment, he stared at her, hard. “Was that it, Rachel? Were you deliberately trying to sabotage me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She kicked off one shoe then the other. Immediately she regretted it. She was a good six inches shorter than Jake, and without her heels she was too intensely aware of it.
“I want a straight answer, Rachel. Did you go off alone with Campbell just to stir up speculation about us? Do you want me dead in the water before my campaign even gets started?”
“Of course not.”
“You know how important appearances are in this business.” He released a long breath. “It’s tiresome, but it’s a fact. After twelve years of campaigning, you know all this as well as I do.”
She removed her earrings, then tossed them onto her dresser. “Maybe I’m just fed up with the hypocrisy of it, I don’t know.”
“Then we’re back to square one. If you didn’t deliberately mean to start tongues wagging, then why did you put yourself in such a compromising situation?”
“You sound like an outraged guardian, for heaven’s sake! This isn’t the eighteenth century, Jake. Nobody thinks twice about two adults seeking a peaceful moment at a noisy party.”
“It didn’t sound like that to me. It sounded like that… Like Ron was coming on to my wife.”
Rachel was occupied unfastening the clasp of her watch. She looked up. “He was expressing sympathy for my lifestyle.”
Stung, he refused to acknowledge how much that hurt. He resorted to sarcasm. “What’s wrong with your lifestyle?” He sent a look around the beautifully furnished bedroom. “From where I stand, your lifestyle doesn’t seem too shabby.” But even as he said it, he knew where Rachel was coming from. She was in pain, and it was his mistake that had caused it. He might want to deny it, he might wish to forget it, but the truth stood between them like a brick wall.
She tossed her watch on the dresser furiously. “The price for this lifestyle is very high, Jake. We live in a glass house. Our secrets are on display for the whole town to see. Besides, are you sure you want to talk to me about gossip and innuendo? A few quiet moments with my boss won’t stir up anything like the fire storm your fourteen-year-old son has inspired.”
Suddenly unutterably weary, he plowed a hand through his hair. “That’s really what this is all about isn’t it, Rachel? It’s Michael.”
In the act of taking off her skirt, she stopped. “Michael? You think it’s about Michael? Well, congratulations! You’re so perceptive. Every time I look at Michael, I can’t help but be reminded of the night you cheated, Jake. Yet for the sake of appearances I’ve had to take him in, pretend to those…those people that I don’t care that my husband was unfaithful, that he took our marriage vows and trampled them into the ground. Even if it was only one night, it was still a vile, dishonorable, rotten thing to do.” She looked at him through a sheen of angry tears. “And I have a perfect right to feel this way. So if I agree to attend one of your stupid political rallies and just happen to run into Ron Campbell—or any other person on this planet I feel like talking to, privately or otherwise, that’s what I’ll do. Your approval means exactly nothing to me.”
“So you’re going to get back at me by indulging in a flirtation with Ron Campbell?”
She shrugged. “You more than flirted with that woman. Why shouldn’t I try it?” It was a ridiculous thing to say, but in the heat of the moment she wasn’t pulling any punches.
He was across the room in a heartbeat and caught her by both arms. “So help me, Rachel, if I thought you meant that, I’d personally tear that man limb from limb.”
His face was so close to hers that their noses practically touched. She could smell his shaving cologne. Rachel’s heart leaped wildly, beating in a crazy rhythm fueled by recklessness and anticipation.
She stared defiantly into his eyes. “Just think what that would do for your precious campaign, Jake.”
“Careful, Rachel,” he warned in a low, rough tone. “You’re pushing.”
Rachel knew she was pushing. Her heart was beating so hard she could almost feel the movement against the silk of her blouse. But something beyond her seemed to urge her on.
“What are you going to do, lock me up for the duration?”
A long moment passed. Jake stood unmoving. She felt the quiver of his hands as they fastened around her upper arms.
“I can hardly do that, as you well know. But I can do this.”
He pulled her up against him and kissed her. Sealing her mouth with his.
For the first few seconds, Jake was conscious of nothing more than an overwhelming need to express his frustration. Then her warmth flooded his starved senses. It was heaven. Pure heaven. It was everything he’d been missing for weeks. Months. It was deliverance. It stole away his anger and replaced it with tenderness.
As they drew apart Jake saw a longing in his wife’s eyes that hadn’t been there for a long time.
A shrill sound shattered the moment.
Stunned, their chests rising and falling erratically, they stared at each other. “It’s the boat alarm,” Jake said, recovering first.
He kept his service revolver loaded and ready. Groping beneath the bed, he found it. Automatically, he checked it with a swift flick of the chamber, then headed for the bedroom door. “Wait here,” he told Rachel before slipping silently from the room.
Standing where he’d left her, Rachel felt her heart racing as much from the kiss as from fear of an intruder. Because of Jake’s job, they had a fairly sophisticated security system in place, and it wasn’t unusual for an animal to trip the signal. And thank goodness for the stray dog, curious raccoon or little possum that had set it off this time! The alarm had kept her from going to bed with Jake. Another minute and it might have been too late.
She was stunned by her response, but now was not the time to examine why she was suddenly interested in her husband again.
Her mouth in a grim line, she pulled on a robe and left the bedroom. Michael’s door was ajar, as usual. He never closed it entirely, and he never turned out the light in the aquarium at night. It was odd the noise of the alarm hadn’t awakened him. Impulsively, she decided to check on him. She pushed the door f
ully open and stared in surprise at his empty bed. Where on earth—
The alarm ceased abruptly.
Frowning, she left the room and hurried to the den just in time to see Jake ushering Michael ahead of him through the patio door. Meeting her eyes, Michael looked embarrassed.
“What is it? What happened?” she demanded, transferring her attention to Jake.
“False alarm. It was Mike.” He shook his head dismissively. “Everything’s under control.”
Michael gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Miss Rachel. I forgot about the security alarm. I left my new headphones in the boat when we docked this afternoon. It was real late when I remembered them and I didn’t want to bother you. So since I knew where it was, I figured I wouldn’t bother you. I hope you didn’t freak out too much when the alarm went off.”
“No.” She gave a brief shake of her head. “We’re used to it, actually. Dogs and cats are always tripping it.”
Michael looked relieved. “Yeah. I mean, yes, ma’am. I bet they only do it once. It sure scared me.”
“It is loud,” she agreed, noting the way he refused to meet her eyes. She wondered how much of their fight he might have overheard. Had he come by their bedroom before he went out?
“But effective,” Jake put in.
Michael rubbed his hand over his middle. “Man, when I saw you sprinting for the boathouse like that, I about died.” He made a comical face. “I could see you had your gun and I just prayed you’d see it was me before you shot.”
“There wasn’t much doubt who the intruder was when I heard that yell,” Jake drawled, affectionately hooking his arm around Michael’s neck.
The boy accepted the rough caress ruefully. “I bet you’d yell, too, if somebody was heading straight at you with a loaded gun.”
“You better believe it.” Chuckling, Jake released him.
Rachel moved around them and secured the lock on the patio door. “It’s late, Michael. You’d better get back to bed.”
He gave her an anxious look. “I’m sure sorry about this,” he said.
Rachel sensed that he was referring to more than the disturbance over the alarm. But it was Jake who replied. “Forget it, Mike,” he said, still smiling. “In my line of work I’m used to being routed out of my house at all hours. Keeps me in practice.” He gave the boy a gentle shove. “Good night, son. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay. G’night.” With one final look at Rachel, Michael went.
Jake’s smile faded as he went to the wall and punched in the code that reset the security system. Rachel waited until he finished. When he turned, his features had the grim look he’d worn after Scotty disappeared. Until Michael came. She hadn’t realized that until just now, and she felt regret and sadness that it had returned.
“He heard us, you know,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at her. “Are you, Rachel?”
“Of course. I’m not so unfeeling that I’d purposely hurt a child.”
“Even my illegitimate child?” His tone was bitter.
She picked up a cushion from the couch. “Any child. I was angry…am angry over this whole situation, and I said some things I sincerely regret he overheard. It goes without saying that Michael is the innocent one in this. I’m sorry he’s bound to be hurt because of a mistake you made fifteen years ago. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
After a moment when he didn’t answer, she tossed the cushion aside. “It’s late and I’m tired.”
“Yeah.”
She met his look defiantly, thinking of the heated moments they’d just spent. From the expression on Jake’s face, she knew he was thinking the same thing.
She pulled the folds of her robe closely around her. “I’m going to my room now.”
They both knew that Jake would not be going with her.
JAKE GLANCED AT HIS WATCH. Nine-thirty. He’d been at his desk for more than two hours without a break. He leaned most of his weight backward in his chair, stretching his cramped muscles. Tipping his head back and then forward, he rotated it a few times. Releasing a deep breath, he straightened up and reached for another file.
The place was quiet. Sundays usually were quiet in Tidewater. Only a skeleton crew was necessary to carry the administrative load. On the street, it was another story. There it was business as usual.
Concentration should have come easy. It was one of his strong points, the ability to focus his mind, to shut out everything but the task at hand. In his line of work, the ability to handle a weapon or subdue a suspect was important, but ninety-eight percent of a man’s time was devoted to sheer drudgery, mountainous paperwork, wading through written testimony, analyzing case histories, studying the habits of suspects, looking for vital, often obscure clues that would pull everything together. Jake was good at it. Years ago, in the DEA, where he’d perfected his skills, he’d been known as the best.
Wearily he rubbed a hand over his face. This was the only way he knew to try to unravel the mystery of Scotty’s kidnapping. Since it had happened, he’d spent his Sundays scrutinizing cases of known child molesters, analyzing recent arrests all over the United States, following up every lead, no matter how faint. He must have sifted through thousands of photographs of lost and missing kids. Even though he held the top job in Kinard County and could have delegated much of the detail, he didn’t dare trust anyone else. Scotty’s life was at stake.
His concentration wavered again. He shoved the file aside, but his features relaxed as he caught sight of Michael through the half-glass wall of his office. As usual, Michael was haunting the computer that linked Kinard County with nationwide law-enforcement offices.
Jake stretched in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. Since that first day when he had walked into Jake’s domain, Mike had made no secret of the fact that he couldn’t wait to be a cop. He had quickly grasped departmental routine and was computer literate within an amazingly short period of time, according to the deputy on Jake’s staff who had coached him. At first Jake was amused—along with the rest of his staff. With all the other new experiences in his life, Jake figured Mike would soon find something more interesting than hanging around the sheriff’s office, but it hadn’t happened. Mike begged to come every chance he got. And whenever Jake could manage it, he allowed it. Sundays it was no problem.
He wished briefly for a cup of coffee, but it was probably so bitter and strong that it would react like battery acid on his stomach. Instead he relaxed a little lower on his spine and put his feet up on his desk. With his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. This morning, for the first time in a long time, he had wanted to stay home. He thought of Rachel as she had looked last night. If that alarm hadn’t gone off…
He still couldn’t believe it. For months Rachel had been locked in some kind of emotional twilight zone where he was excluded, her gentleness and femininity locked away from both of them. They hadn’t shared so much as a kiss on the cheek in months.
Raised voices in the outer office brought him upright in his chair. Through the glass, he saw a deputy enter the swinging doors with a handcuffed prisoner in tow. Jake got to his feet, automatically assessing the individual as he went out to the main desk. Young, male, a juvenile, fifteen, sixteen—no more—good clothes, surly expression. Jake drew in a deep breath, heading for the front desk. At least the boy wasn’t another runaway.
“What’ve you got, Dempsey?”
“Morning, Sheriff.” Keeping one hand on the youth’s shoulder, the deputy tossed a plastic bag on the counter. “Possession and DUI. Stopped him out on Deer Creek near the approach to the interstate. He was all over the road. Lucky he didn’t get on I-75. He coulda killed somebody.”
Jake lifted the plastic bag and briefly studied the contents. With a noncommittal grunt, he tossed it to the desk sergeant, who had produced a large brown envelope used to hold evidence. At a look from Jake, the deputy released the boy.
&
nbsp; “What’s your name, son?”
His head down, the boy mumbled something inaudible.
Deputy Dempsey let out a long sigh. “Speak up when the sheriff asks you a question, boy.”
“James.”
“James who?” Dempsey said, fast losing patience. “This isn’t kindergarten you’re visiting, James. You’re in trouble, boy. You—”
At a look from Jake, the deputy backed off.
“You live around here, James?” Jake asked, signaling Dempsey to remove the handcuffs.
“Yes, sir.” Looking dazed and a little sick, James rubbed at his freed wrists with his fingers. “Fifty-six twenty Brightside. It’s in Meadowcrest.” He sent Jake an anxious look. “Are you gonna call my dad?”
Meadowcrest was one of Tidewater’s better neighborhoods. “It’s the law, James. Do your folks know you use?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, they will now, kid. Come on, right through these doors.” Dempsey grasped his shoulder and nudged him toward the swinging doors. An hour or two in central lockup would probably be more of a deterrent than any lecture. “You know what I hate, boy?” James’s reply was indistinct. “Paperwork, that’s what. And because of you, I got to do some. I don’t like to spend my Sundays doing paperwork, but that’s what happens when a kid does something dumb like fooling around with an illegal substance and then acting even dumber by getting behind the wheel of a vehicle. Your daddy’s gonna be mad, boy. Let’s hope he’s a man of patience.”
Dempsey’s words faded as the doors swung closed with a whoosh. Jake stood a minute, looking troubled as he watched them through the tall, narrow windows in the doors. “Moody.”
Jake glanced at Michael, who was standing at his elbow. “What?”
“His name’s James Moody. I’ve seen him around at school.” He looked at Jake. “What’ll happen to him, Dad?”
Jake dropped a hand to Michael’s shoulder and they walked toward his office. “First of all, he’ll be turned over to Jacky Kendall in Juvenile. She’ll call his parents, of course. I hope they’ll recognize the problem and care enough about their son to want to know what they can do to help. If they listen to our people—the ones whose job it is to deal with this kind of thing—with luck we’ll never see James Moody again.”