by Julie Miller
But before Maddie climbed into bed, she checked the window from her room. The car was still there. Dark. Out of place.
And she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone in the darkness was watching.
Chapter Four
Dwight went after the heavy bag as if finally landing a good punch could blank his mind of all the unnecessary details from the past weekend it kept trying to process.
Work hadn’t helped.
Sleep hadn’t helped.
A cold shower hadn’t done a damn thing.
That left going a couple of rounds with his guilt at midnight down in his basement gym.
“You did—” he hit the bag with a left-right-left combination, then danced back on the balls of his feet “—what you had—” he leaned in for a right-left “—to do.”
A final cut left the body-sized bag shaking on its suspension mounts. Dwight tipped his head back and closed his eyes, relishing the blood pounding in his veins and the stretch of muscle through his chest and shoulders as he breathed in deeply.
But as he inhaled the smells of vinyl mats and exercise, a softer scent crept into his thoughts. Baby powder. He squinted his eyes open and stared at the ceiling’s steel beams, cursing as familiar ghosts refused to die.
He’d been right to walk away from the Tyler Rinaldi case. A. J. Rodriguez had briefed him on the latest developments. The special-victims unit had launched an investigation, looking for some sort of illegal-adoption ring. The police department had set up regular patrols around Maddie McCallister’s house and tapped her phones. The KCPD was on top of things. They’d protect Tyler. They’d locate his mother.
There were too many similarities to Braden’s death for Dwight to be effective in any role. He was a grown man with a law degree and a Golden Gloves trophy from his stint in the Army. If he couldn’t save his own son, what good could he possibly do for someone else’s kid?
He shouldn’t be involved.
So why the hell was it still nagging at him?
Dwight punched the bag one more time for good measure.
Walk away, Powers, he warned himself, as personal history warred with his conscience. You’d be doing everyone a favor if you just walked away.
Intending to do just that, Dwight peeled off his gloves and hugged the bag to stop its wobbling. But as his arms absorbed the vibrations, another buried detail surfaced. His fingertips clutched the vinyl-coated mesh, but he was remembering smooth, telegraphic skin and a delicate heat that bloomed beneath his palm.
He rested his forehead against the cool surface and closed his eyes, recalling another scent, as well. One as subtle as the baby smells that haunted him but much more alluring. Ginger. Mixed with orange. A warm and spicy fragrance that reminded him of copper-colored hair. Framing a warm smile that seemed to light up from the inside out and cut through even his cold shield of armor.
Dwight’s temperature continued to rise, even though the workout had ended. He remembered curves aplenty, too. Enough to fill a man’s hands if he dared touch them. Curves and smiles and copper and spice….
His cellphone rang before a complete image of Maddie McCallister could really screw with his head. Dwight rubbed at the back of his neck, wishing he could ease the kinks from his entire body.
It was just as well. He was fantasizing about the wrong woman. His wife had had dark hair. And she always wore that… “Damn.” He couldn’t name the perfume Alicia had worn.
Dwight mopped his face and chest with a towel, snatched up the phone and ground out his frustrations through the tight rumble of his voice. “Powers.”
“My turn to wake you, counselor.”
“A.J.” Dwight recognized the smooth Latin accent immediately. His detective friend knew him better than that. “You know I’m awake. What’s up?”
“Have you turned on your TV, amigo? There’s news from Jeff City.”
Dwight had a sick feeling in his stomach that he was about to land on the front line of a battle he was in no shape to fight.
Walking away from Maddie McCallister and her piecemeal family had never really been an option.
He was already involved.
“Tell me.”
MADDIE TUCKED THE BLANKET around Tyler and set his carrier on the kitchen table so she could keep an eye on him while she cleaned up. Under Roberta Hays’s recommendation, the DFS had granted her an extended foster placement until her court hearing on Thursday. And though the three books on child rearing she’d checked out from the library that afternoon all recommended getting some sleep whenever the newborn napped, her odd hours with Tyler and restless worries over Katie were quickly turning her into a night person.
As a result, after Tyler’s midnight feeding, Maddie was still wide-awake, puttering about the house in her nightgown.
Maddie started the dishwasher, then wound her hair back into a ponytail and slipped on some rubber gloves to wash the baby bottles and plastic nipples in the sink. After setting them on a towel to dry, she tackled the iron skillet from dinner.
She was barefoot and humming and as happy as a woman who’d had little to be optimistic about over the past month could be. Now she had a tap on her phone and cell, and a police technician on the street outside, listening and watching for any word from Katie. Detective Bellamy had ordered periodic checks of the house and neighborhood, either by himself, his partner, Charlotte Quinn, or a black-and-white cruiser.
If Katie called or physically approached the house, the police would be there. And if anyone else was scouting out the house or showing any undue interest in Tyler, they’d know that, too. If Cooper Bellamy’s theory was true, Tyler was a commodity Katie had stolen from the mysterious baby clinic. Someone would want him back.
Well, they could damn well try. Maddie finally had a tangible role to play, caring for the baby. It was one thing she could do to help her niece. She didn’t intend to let Katie down.
The sudsy water was sucking noisily down the drain when the telephone rang. 12:31 a.m., according to the clock. An instinctive moment of panic was quickly replaced by a flare of hope.
Katie.
Let it ring at least twice, Cooper had instructed, giving the recording device he’d installed a chance to kick in. Once. Her hand hovered beside the phone. Twice. The detectives’ technical assistance team should have their tracers and recorders activated by now. Three times for good measure.
Maddie released her white-knuckled grip around the dish towel and grabbed the cordless receiver. This could be it. “Hello?”
A beat of silence ended with a low, biting laugh. “Hey, Madeline. How’s my favorite sister-in-law tonight?”
Her knees turned to jelly at the horrid voice from her past. Hang up! Hang up!
But the need to stand up to the ex-brother-in-law who’d already destroyed so many lives beat strongly inside her. Bracing her hand against the counter, Maddie trimmed the fear and loathing from her voice. “What do you want, Joe?”
“How’s Katie? How’s my little girl?”
Grown-up. Missing. Alone. Maddie told him none of those things. She gazed over at the tiny infant, snoozing peacefully, blessedly oblivious to the hell this man had put his mother and grandmother through. “Tell me what you want or I’ll hang up.”
“No, you won’t. Karen might have been the pretty sister. But you’re the smart one. You’ll listen to me.” Joe Rinaldi had always had a twisted way with words that cut to the bone. “You know, if you’d been even half as fine as she was, I might have chosen you instead.”
Was that a threat or an insult? Knowing Joe, it was both. “Is that all you wanted to say?”
A tremor in her voice betrayed her growing discomfort. She could imagine Joe on the other end, adjusting his thick, black-framed glasses on his nose and smiling because he’d gotten a rise out of her. “Oh, I’m just getting started, sweetheart.”
The phone line beeped, indicating another incoming call. Maddie slipped her thumb to the disconnect button. It might be Katie. She should clear
the line.
“And I’m finishing it.” Whatever request he had in mind, she wasn’t having any part of it. “I’m not driving to Jefferson City. I’m not sending you anything. Now I have another call coming in. Good-bye.”
“Hang up on me and I’ll just keep calling. I’ll tie up the line until I get what I want.”
Maddie released a pent-up breath. She hated giving him control of anything, but she knew he’d do what he promised. Better to give him a moment longer and then get rid of him. “I have nothing you want.”
Joe laughed at his own private joke. But then, he’d always laughed at her. “Let me talk to Katie.”
Absolutely not. Even if she was home. The phone beeped again. “You know you can’t have contact with her.”
“I’m her daddy.”
You’re the murdering son of a bitch who killed her mother. “The court said you can’t have access to her until she turns eighteen. Then it will be her choice as to whether she wants to have anything to do with you, and I wouldn’t hold my breath. Besides—” she could levy a little threat of her own “—I don’t know who you paid off, but once I report you, they’ll put you in solitary for making an illegal call after lights-out.”
“They can try.” They can try? The line beeped like an ominous death knell. “Put my daughter on the phone.”
Where were the prison guards? How did a convicted murderer get access to a telephone in the middle of the night?
Maddie’s bravado quickly evaporated, and a bone-chilling dread took its place. Her gaze drifted to the front door. Where were her cops?
What had Dwight Powers said about Joe being transferred to a psychiatric hospital?
“Madeline?”
She slipped through the darkened foyer to the porch window and pushed aside the sheer curtain. In the shadows beyond the street lamp, she could just make out the unmarked utility van parked on the opposite side of the street. A small flare of orange diverted her gaze to the uniformed officer standing in the shadows beside the van, smoking a cigarette. Weren’t they hearing this? Didn’t they know who Joe Rinaldi was? What he had done? Weren’t they concerned?
The same dark car that had spooked her last night turned the corner and cruised by at a steady, leisurely speed. But even the wash of light from the street lamp couldn’t illuminate the dark blob of a driver inside. It turned the next corner and disappeared from sight.
No. Surely not. Panic surged through her veins. Maddie checked the dead bolt. “Where are you?”
“Where’s Katie?”
“She isn’t home right now.”
“You don’t have any idea where she is, do you?”
Do you? But she bit her tongue. Tires ground into the asphalt as a car spun around the same corner and rushed up the street. Not the same black car as before, but this one moved with a definite purpose. Maddie dropped the curtain and retreated into the darkness. “I’m hanging up.”
“I’m coming to see you.”
Beep. The speeding car braked and squealed to a halt in front of her house. She curled her toes into the rag rug beneath her feet. “You can’t.”
“I’m coming for Katie.”
“No.”
A man climbed out of the car. His broad, faceless silhouette raced up the front sidewalk.
The van doors swung open. In the pool of lamplight, she saw the uniformed officer crushing his cigarette beneath his shoe. He was pulling his gun, chasing after the man.
The beep repeated itself like an alarm, waking her from a stupor of fear. Maddie ran into the kitchen and reached out to lay a protective hand on Tyler’s tiny chest. “Where are you?”
“Closer than you think. You turned Karen against me. Told all those lies in court. But you won’t keep me from my little girl.”
The shadowy figure reached the porch.
No. It couldn’t be. Maddie dashed to the sink and grabbed the iron skillet.
“Maddie!” A fist pounded on her door.
She jumped inside her skin and the skillet and phone clattered to the floor. She danced out of the way to save her toes but was on her knees, scrambling to retrieve the makeshift weapon when she heard Joe’s final taunt.
“You won’t keep me from my grandson, either.”
“What?” She snatched up the phone as she crawled to her feet, positioning herself between Tyler and the front door. “How do you know about…”
A dial tone was her only answer.
“Joe!”
Tyler whimpered in his sleep, stirring at her scream.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Maddie tossed the phone onto the counter and curled both hands around the skillet.
The fist pounded again. The door rattled in its frame. She swung the iron pan up like a baseball bat. “You won’t hurt us this time.”
“Maddie! It’s Dwight Powers. Open up!”
Dwight? What was he… A ragged sigh of relief tore through Maddie’s chest as she unfolded her arms. “Dwight?”
“Police! On the ground. Now!”
“I’m with the DA’s office. I’m reaching for my ID.”
“Hands where I can…” Beams of light flashed through the sheer curtains. Someone swore. “Sir, I’m—”
“Dwight!” Maddie dashed to the front door, switching on every light along the way.
“Get him up.”
A flurry of curses and shouts became the bark of orders. “Secure the house. Check every parked car and open window on this block.”
“Yes, sir.”
She flipped on the porch light in time to see two uniformed officers scurrying away into the night with their flashlights. Maddie unlatched the dead bolt and reached for the knob. Help was here. She and Tyler were safe.
“Dwight? Thank God, you’re…”
Or not.
A blast of humid summer air swished beneath her cotton gown as the door swung open. She skipped backward, shielding her chest with the skillet as Dwight barged inside. He slammed the door behind him and locked it. Then, in the same decisive motion, he pried the skillet from her grasp, closed one big hand around her shoulder and pushed her farther into the interior of the house, away from the porch and windows. “The next time I call, you answer the damn phone.”
“I…” The beeping. “That was you?”
“Yes, it was me. How the hell is anybody supposed to warn you?”
“Warn me about what?” She twisted out of his grasp and darted into the kitchen. He followed, right on her heels, forcing her to back into the counter when she spun around and shook the phone at him. “This creep?”
“That was Joe Rinaldi?”
He knew. Damn him, he knew. She inhaled the musky heat of him on her next feverish breath and shoved the phone into the center of his chest. “Yes, but thanks for nothing. You scared the bejeebers out of me by banging on the door like that. God, it took me back to those nights when…with Karen… I didn’t realize he could still rattle me like that.”
A steely calm tempered the emotion that had lined his face. He closed his fingers around the phone and her hand, short-circuiting her panic. He moved even closer when he reached around her to set the skillet on the counter. “No wonder you were ready to bash my head in.”
“I don’t know if I really could hurt someone like that.”
“I’ve seen you in action, Red. If you had to do it to protect your family, you could.”
It was an odd compliment. But she found Dwight’s words a better boost to her ego than any false platitudes about her looks or talents.
Maddie’s gaze zeroed in on the size and contours of his hand, so big and warm and masculine in contrast to her smaller, paler fingers. His was a very business-like hand, sure of itself, more firm than gentle. It was a scarred, callused hand that seemed at odds with a man who wore suits and ties and relied on mental abilities rather than physical skills in his work. Curious. Comforting. Commanding.
A hand that released her, just as the intimacy of the contact they shared registered. For a few short moments, t
hey’d stood nearly thigh to thigh within the cozy confines of her kitchen, while the hushed velvet of the night shut out the rest of the world.
But Dwight had stepped away, allowing the air-conditioning to cool the space between them and denying her the physical contact she foolishly craved. He set the phone down beside the skillet and moved to the archway connecting the kitchen to the dining room and hallway beyond.
A guarded watchfulness had replaced Dwight’s anger, filling the room with a different sort of tension. Maddie curled her arms around her middle, wishing she could hug away the chill that suddenly consumed her. She crossed over to the table and fiddled with Tyler’s blanket, confirming that he’d settled into a deeper sleep. “Joe knows about Tyler. He said I couldn’t keep him from his grandson. And he knew that Katie was gone. He said he was coming to see me.”
“You thought I was him?” Dwight’s voice dropped a note in pitch and angled in her direction. “At your front door?”
Maddie rubbed her fingers up and down her bare arms, feeling like one giant goosebump. “I couldn’t see very well, and fear is playing games with my imagination. And, dammit, you do come on like gangbusters. But I should’ve…”
Speech evaporated in a puff of air when she turned around and got an eyeful of chest. Right there. Close enough to lean into. Near enough to touch. A whiff of dampness clung to Dwight’s clothes and the heat of his skin as if he’d jumped straight from the shower into a pressed shirt and suit.
“You should have what?” His deep voice, bold and direct, stroked across her eardrums.
“I should have known better. You’re bigger than Joe is.” She should back away. “You’re older. Not as tall.” She should stop staring at that inviting vee of skin where the base of his throat met the sturdy ridge of his collarbone. She should stop wishing she could bury her nose there and have his strong arms wrap her up and keep the terrors of her world at bay. “Besides, he’s locked up, two hundred miles away.”