by Terri Reed
Disappointment showed bright in Kate’s green eyes but she didn’t say much as Brody drove her back to Myrtle’s.
They were walking into the small house when the radio attached to his shoulder crackled and hissed. Teal’s voice came through. “Sheriff, we’ve got a situation at the high school.”
Brody reached up and pressed the respond button.
“Serious?”
“No. But the principal wants you there.”
“Copy that. On my way.”
He met Kate’s wide-eyed stare.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have a job to do.”
Myrtle laid a hand on her arm. “You’ll be fine here, dear.”
Kate gave her a wan smile before turning back to Brody. He narrowed his gaze at the slight pallor of her complexion.
“I’ll be back,” he offered.
She nodded, her expression bleak and vulnerable. Something in Brody shifted, softened, making him want to take her hand again and reassure her. Making him think of the way he’d almost kissed her less than forty-eight hours ago. He forced himself to remember his resolve to remain unaffected by her act.
He couldn’t risk paying more for believing in her. She was a job. He wouldn’t let it get personal. He turned to go.
“The letters!” Kate thrust the sheets of paper toward him.
“Right.” Caution warned she could be setting him up with her false trust. He reached for the papers. “I’ll drop them off with Mr. Waskasky when I’m done. He should be home by then.”
She didn’t let go. “I’m going with you.”
“You can’t.”
“I’m going with you,” she repeated, her expression determined.
“Kate—”
“What if you don’t come back?”
Reacting to the urgency and desperation in her tone, Brody sought to reassure her. “This is a routine incident. I’ll be back. Then we can go see about the letter together.”
Her gaze searched his face as if she were deciding whether to trust him or not. Finally, she gave a short nod. “Fine.”
Brody left, shutting the door firmly behind him. As he heard the click of the lock slide into place he couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling that no matter how much he tried to protect himself, he was still vulnerable to a red-haired woman with worry in her wide green eyes.
EIGHT
Kate gathered up the remains of the clam chowder dinner she’d shared with Myrtle and headed into the kitchen. Though she enjoyed Myrtle’s company, she couldn’t shake a restless disappointment. Her life hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned. She’d so wanted a normal, all-American life. How had she ended up with so much deceit?
Myrtle smiled as she entered. “Thank you, dear. Just put those dishes on the counter. I’ll take care of them later.”
“I’ll wash them. It’s the least I can do for all your kindness.” Kate went to the sink. Nervous energy made her edgy and she needed something to do. She glanced at the old wooden cuckoo clock hanging on the pale yellow wall of the kitchen.
Three hours. Where was Brody?
Kate washed the dinner dishes, her hands working automatically, scrubbing and wiping. The simple task left her mind to wander.
Trouble at the high school. Teenagers with too much time on their hands was Myrtle’s guess.
But what if it was something more? What if Brody was hurt and didn’t return? An ache tightened in her chest. She recognized the sensation. Only this time it was more acute.
She scrubbed harder at the soup bowl in her hand. She didn’t want to like Brody, much less worry about him. But the ache, full of anxiety, fear and dread was the same she’d experienced every time her father went off on one of his missions.
As a child, she hadn’t understood why her mother was so anxious every time her father left. Sometimes he disappeared in the middle of the night. Her mother would lock herself away in her room and cry, leaving Kate alone and confused.
It wasn’t until Kate was nine and her father was hurt, a wound in the shoulder from an explosive of some sort, that she’d begun to grasp the nature of his job. And though Brody wasn’t a covert operations specialist like her father, he was a cop. And a cop’s life was as iffy and dangerous. Anything could happen.
What if he didn’t come back? The question played like a broken record in her mind and an invisible band across her chest squeezed tighter. She was only concerned because he had the letter, concerned that he’d have it translated without her. She picked up a dish towel and dried a blue plate.
No. He’d said he’d wait, that she could go with him. But could she trust him to keep his word? He hadn’t given her any reason not to, but Paul’s whispered warning not to trust anyone lurked in her mind.
She scoffed out loud. Hadn’t Paul proven he was the one not to be trusted? He’d lived a double life, lied to her and endangered her. No, she wouldn’t compare Brody to Paul.
“Did you say something, dear?” Myrtle asked as she tidied the counters.
“I was wondering where Sheriff McClain was.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll return soon.”
Kate nodded and stacked the dishes to the side.
“Thank you for helping.” Myrtle put the clean dishes in the cupboards.
Kate leaned against the sink. “Thank you for your wonderful hospitality.”
“I must confess it’s good to have company. My late husband, Fred, used to say I lived to entertain, but it’s been years since I had a guest.”
“How long ago did your husband die?”
“Fred passed on about ten years ago now. He was a good man.” Myrtle stared off into memories. “So full of life. He found humor in everything and he made our years together blissful. He was my soul mate, created by God to love me and me him.”
Touched by the sentiment, Kate wondered if she’d ever find that kind of bliss, find her soul mate, the one created by God for her. She doubted it. She’d never risk her heart again.
Looking back, she knew bliss hadn’t been there with Paul. He’d been safe, steady, which was what she’d wanted. What she still wanted, but she knew better now. Paul hadn’t come close to giving her the security she craved. She couldn’t imagine loving someone so deeply that you knew they were a gift from above.
An image of Brody rose in her mind. His dark probing eyes, his strong jaw and his mouth with its devastating grin. Would his kiss be as devastating?
Whoa! Kate shook her head to clear her mind. Not what she should be thinking about. Instead, she thought about how he made her feel so safe and cared for. He really listened. He never talked over her the way Paul had. The sheriff was a gentleman. But she had no intention of becoming his lady.
Myrtle’s gaze pinned her to the counter, as if she could see into her heart, laying bare her doubts.
“To completely love another person is to experience the essence of God.”
Myrtle’s words seeped deep into Kate’s soul. “I doubt I’ll find that kind of love.”
“Love isn’t something that can be planned or scheduled. Love is a choice.”
“Love is full of risks,” Kate countered.
Myrtle laughed softly. “Life would be boring without risks.”
Growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Kate broke eye contact to glance once again at the clock. She hated this waiting and wondering and worrying. She could never, ever be a police officer’s wife.
“Would you care for some tea, dear?” Myrtle asked.
With a sigh, Kate resigned herself to waiting. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She walked to the French doors leading to the wooden deck. “I’m going to step out for some fresh air.”
“Good idea. After the last few days you’ve had, with those nasty men trying to grab you, you need a little rest and relaxation.”
She gave Myrtle a half smile. Myrtle had questioned her during their meal and Kate had given her as vaguely truthful answers as she could. She didn’t want to worry the
kind older woman. She didn’t want anybody else to be drawn into this mess.
She stepped out onto the deck. A slight breeze ruffled through her hair and sent a chill down her spine.
The sound of the surf drew her attention to the path that led between the shrubs surrounding the yard. She longed to walk down to the water’s edge, to feel the soothing sand beneath her feet.
Instead she wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned against the railing. On the horizon, the blue-green water met the soft pinks and oranges of the setting sun like a watercolor canvas, serene and lovely.
Her mind turned to the problem at hand. She had to make plans in case the sheriff didn’t return. She swallowed against the panic that thought brought. She needed to be logical, practical. She couldn’t rely on anyone else.
If she didn’t get the letters back, then she’d head to New York state. She’d memorized the return address: 425 W 5th, Brighton Beach, New York. She hoped she’d find the answers to her questions there.
And if Brody did return?
She had a feeling he wouldn’t leave her to do this alone. And she didn’t know how she felt about that.
A whisper of movement came from the bushes to her right. Her throat constricted and terror reared up with lightning speed. She whirled around.
A seagull stared at her through the green leaves of the bush.
She laughed at her own paranoia. She was safe on Myrtle’s deck.
She’d turned to go back in when a movement in her peripheral vision alerted her seconds before a hand clamped harshly over her mouth. She grabbed at the arms that dragged her across the deck, down the stairs and through the bushes.
Dear God, please save me!
Where was Brody?
Brody pulled his cruiser up to the curb behind Warren’s vehicle and threw the gearshift into Park. The trouble at the school had taken longer than he’d anticipated. A group of teens, some local, a few out-of-towners, had broken in and vandalized the halls. Brody had to track down each kid’s parents and then he’d stuck around to supervise the cleaning that the principal had demanded the kids do rather than pressing charges.
It was growing late, and he knew Kate would be disappointed when he told her he’d heard from Mr. Waskasky, who wouldn’t be able to help until the morning.
Brody got out of the car and walked toward Warren’s car. He frowned. Warren wasn’t in the driver’s seat. His gaze narrowed on the cottage. Warren was going to get an earful. He’d told the young deputy to stay outside, not to make his presence a bother by bugging the ladies.
He charged up the stairs and knocked on the door. A moment later Myrtle answered.
“Sheriff, you’re back.” She waved him in. “I was just getting tea and a cake ready to take out to Kate.”
“Where’s Deputy Teal?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen Warren this evening.” Myrtle looked over his shoulder and frowned. “I hadn’t noticed his car.”
His senses went on the alert. “Where’s Kate?”
“On the deck out back.”
He palmed the radio attached to his shoulder and radioed the station.
“Anderson, here.”
“Have you heard from Warren?”
“No, not since he left this afternoon.”
Brody clenched his fist. “Come to Myrtle Kirby’s. I need your help.”
“Should I call Sheriff Talbot?”
“No,” Brody barked, irritated that the older deputy would automatically suggest calling his old boss. He wasn’t going to call in the retired sheriff. It was bad enough that Warren had gone missing. He didn’t need to add to the questions and scrutiny that would come from Sheriff Talbot. “Just get here.”
He clicked off the radio. He’d started back down the stairs when he heard a low moan coming from under the porch. Brody found Warren facedown in the dirt, blood, still sticky and wet, smeared on the back of his head.
Brody dragged him out. “What happened?”
Warren blinked and struggled to sit up. “Two men. I got out, they asked for directions. One hit me from behind.”
Greg Anderson’s car screeched to a halt behind Brody’s car. People emerged from neighboring houses, obviously curious about the police cars in front of Myrtle’s.
Brody and Greg helped Warren to a chair on the porch.
“Oh, my,” exclaimed Myrtle when she saw the state of the deputy. She turned her troubled gaze on Brody. “Kate?”
Brody left Warren to Greg’s care and stormed around the house to the back deck. Empty. Dread gripped his gut.
Myrtle stepped out from the house. “She was here just a bit ago. Maybe she went down to the beach.” The worry in her voice was unmistakable.
Brody gritted his teeth and charged across the grass. He skidded to halt when he came to one of Kate’s shoes lying near the bushes. He cursed as terror slammed into his chest. He’d failed to protect her.
Or she’d gone of her own free will.
In which case, he’d failed to do his job. Again.
“I’ll find her.” He was determined to figure her out. And when he did he’d send her back to Los Angeles, back to be someone else’s problem.
He moved more cautiously toward the path leading through the bushes to the beach. His heart rate picked up speed when his gaze snagged on the telltale signs of a struggle where the grass met the sand. Large indentations—like those of men’s boots—marred the sand and deep grooves—like that of someone being dragged—ran down the path and around the bushes.
Dread seized him. He had failed her. His hand reached for his sidearm as he emerged from the path onto the beach. His gaze swung about, searching the growing darkness. The beach was empty.
She could be anywhere by now. To the right, the bushes gave way to the backyard of Myrtle’s neighbor and to the left, the bushes ended at drainpipes that dumped the town’s rainwater, creating a rocky inlet. Logic and gut instinct told him to go left.
He ran toward the drainpipes. He skidded to a halt as a figure stumbled out from behind the bushes.
“Kate!”
In her hand she held a big stick. Her clothes were wet and dirty. Her eyes widened, and then she went down in a heap at his feet. His breath froze and he dropped to his knees.
Flashes of his father’s lifeless body threatened to cripple him. He forced himself to stay focused on Kate. In the waning light he saw the ugly gash at her temple and the bruises on her face.
“Kate, Kate!”
She didn’t wake.
Strangling with panic, Brody fought back the fear gripping him and did something he hadn’t done since he was ten years old.
“Lord, please don’t let her die.”
Kate struggled from the drifting, floating sensation that held her body and her mind. Her eyelids fluttered open. Dull light stung her eyes and she blinked.
Where was she?
Sterile walls, a firm mattress, the hanging bag of fluid with a tube running down to a shunt stuck into her right hand. A hospital.
Aches on various parts of her body made themselves known with dull intensity. She closed her eyes again, trying to sink back to the sweet ignorance of slumber, but the images flicking through her mind like a projector on high speed wouldn’t allow her ease.
Instead, fear built within her chest as she remembered the hands around her. Terror clawed at her throat, cutting off her air as she replayed being dragged away from the shelter of Myrtle’s house. She fought to breathe, her body thrashed as she tried to sit up, to run.
Pain exploded in her head causing bright light to blot out her vision. She gritted her teeth. She had to leave. She wasn’t safe.
Suddenly, strong hands pushed her back into the pillows. Fresh panic swelled. The restraints holding her down were too strong. She couldn’t break free. “No.”
“Shhhh, Kate. You’re safe.”
She recognized the voice. She stilled. “Brody?”
The hands holding her down gentled to a calming caress. “Yes. I’m
here.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes to assure herself he was real. His face came into focus, and relief cascaded swiftly through her like an early-spring waterfall, powerful and refreshing.
She sighed and drifted as the tension eased from her body. Her head throbbed as adrenaline left to be replaced by oxygen.
She wasn’t sure what to make of Brody’s presence. The thudding of her heart took on a different beat, less frantic but just as wild. She felt safe, yet threatened. Comforted, yet panicked. And none of it had anything to do with her situation and everything to do with the man beside the bed.
She didn’t want to need him, she shouldn’t want to rely on him. Even so, she was thankful he was there. And she knew in her soul that he was the reason she was still alive.
God had answered her prayers by providing her with a protector here on earth, though Brody wouldn’t appreciate that title. A smile played at the corners of her mouth. A spasm of pain radiated through her head for her effort. She closed her eyes, letting the ache wash over her and ebb away as the smile fell.
There was still so much to do and so many questions that needed to be answered. And as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t chase down the answers on her own. She needed Brody, needed his strength, his intelligence and his protection. She needed him to trust her. But she had to keep her heart safe. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for him. He was the opposite of the stable, secure life she longed for.
But for now she could use his help.
Her gaze sought him. He’d taken a seat next to the bed. He no longer wore his brown uniform; instead, a light blue button-down shirt and faded jeans hugged his big body. Lines of tension framed his ebony eyes. His clean-shaven cheeks emphasized his hard jaw.
“Hi.” The word came out as a croak.
Brody immediately moved to pour her a cup of water. Gently he held the cup to her bruised and swollen lips. The water hit her mouth, cool and flowing. She greedily drank, relieving the parchedness of her throat. When the cup was drained, he sat.