by Jan Washburn
Ignoring a stab of pain in his bad knee, he raced down the stairs and opened the door of the SUV. Tracy was waiting, tense with expectation. Was he there? Did you get him?
We’ve got him, but are you sure this is Timmons? The guy is claiming we’ve got the wrong person.
It’s Timmons, she said flatly.
He hated to involve her any further, but they needed her. Would you be afraid to face him and confirm his identity?
I’d be honored. Tracy gave him an excited smile as she jumped to the ground. It will be a pleasure.
Timmons didn’t flick an eyelash when Tracy followed Leif into the room. In spite of his handcuffs, he was still acting as though he were enjoying a social call from friends.
Hello, Rick. Tracy looked him squarely in the eye. It was so very kind of you to involve me in your crimes.
And who is this young lady? said Timmons cheerfully. Charming.
Tracy put her chin up. Leif knew that was her battle flag. You’re not fooling anyone, Rick. Leif, if you’ll check the palm of his left hand, you’ll find an L-shaped scar from an old injury. As I recall, a firecracker blew up in his hand.
For the first time, Timmons showed a crack in his polished façade. You don’t have jurisdiction here, Chief, he muttered.
Right, Leif agreed. I’m just a consultant on the case.
I have all the jurisdiction you can handle, Sgt. McNeill growled. You’re still in Plymouth County.
The deputy had cuffed Timmons’s hands behind his back. Leif stepped around him and turned his left hand palm out. Tracy knew what she was talking about. That’s some scar, Timmons, he commented. I bet that firecracker hurt like blazes.
Timmons’s jolly-good-fellow attitude deflated as the air fizzled out of his balloon. He didn’t offer a word of protest as Sgt. McNeill and Deputy Cabrera marched him out the door.
Leif and Tracy stood leaning over the balcony railing, watching as McNeill squeezed his prisoner into the back seat of the patrol car.
With his hands on her shoulders, Leif turned her to face him. She was aglow with triumph. She had won the battle.
With the arrest of Timmons, she was no longer a suspected criminal. He was free to express his feelings. But were they all one-sided? Had she forgiven him for letting her down? He wasn’t afraid to confront a six foot man armed with a knife, but this little bit of woman terrified him.
He was touched to see tears of joy in her eyes. He held his breath as she stood on tiptoe to put her arms around his neck. Thanks for believing in me.
He pulled her closer. He had been waiting so long for this moment. You’re very welcome, he murmured.
What kind of a Romeo was he? He groped for some romantic words to whisper in her ear, but his tongue was tangled. He was so in love with this woman, he couldn’t find the words to tell her. The only way to communicate his feelings was with a kiss—a long, slow, lingering kiss.
****
Tracy kept one eye on Leif’s SUV in her rear view mirror. Her Viking was still watching over her, following her home to be sure she arrived safely. It was after two in the morning by the time they pulled into her driveway, but she didn’t want to say goodbye—not tonight, not ever.
I know it’s late, Leif, but can you come in for a cup of coffee? I’m too wound up to sleep.
Twist my arm a little, he teased. Her heart lifted as he took her key and unlocked the door.
Thor was yelping from the kitchen. Tracy felt a rush of guilt. Oh, poor Thor. He’s been shut up alone all this time. She rushed to free him.
Thor bounced out to greet them with enthusiasm. Tracy hugged the puppy, murmuring apologies. She scratched his favorite spot under the collar as she looked up at Leif. I’m afraid I’m going to find a few puddles.
Do you want me to take him outside?
That would be great. His leash is by the back door. If you’ll give him a quick visit to the back yard, I’ll put the coffee on.
By the time Tracy had mopped up a few accidents, Leif was bringing Thor in through the back door. He stood leaning against the door jamb, simply watching her. In the silence they were like two strangers, suddenly struck dumb by the intimacy of the place and the hour.
She busied herself with the coffee maker. Was this the end? Would Leif lose interest in her now that she was no longer the bait to catch Rick Timmons?
Wordlessly they carried their coffee into the living room, but as they settled on the sofa, the spell was broken. Leif put his arm around her and Tracy let her head fall onto his shoulder. Her heart told her that was exactly where it belonged. She wanted to freeze this moment and save it forever.
Leif smiled down at her. I wish I could see Detective Diaz’s face when I call and tell him that his suspect solved the case for him.
Tracy had to laugh. It would be a treat to see Detective Diaz speechless, that gravelly voice totally silenced. Be sure to give him my love.
You know, I was worried there for a while, he confessed. Timmons is such a smooth operator; he had me wondering if you had made a mistake.
She nodded. Rick could sell snowshoes in the Sahara. Now you know how he convinced me he had an invitation to Ronda Starr’s reception. If there was a contest for con artists, he’d win the grand prize.
Did you ever tell Diaz about that scar on his hand? He faxed me a description of Timmons, but it didn’t mention the scar.
Tracy sighed. Leif, I was so scared and upset when Detective Diaz questioned me, I couldn’t think straight. He asked me if Rick had any tattoos or scars or distinguishing marks. I thought he meant something in plain sight, like on his face or his neck, that would be visible to anyone who saw him.
Well, you nailed him. That’s what matters.
We nailed him, she reminded him. We never would have caught him if you hadn’t trusted me. She paused. What if I had been wrong? she asked hesitantly.
Leif cupped her chin in his hand and caressed her cheek with his thumb. I still would have believed in you, he whispered. A guy has to trust the girl he’s going to marry.
****
The Ericson’s dining room was crammed to capacity. Besides herself, Tracy counted five Ericsons, two Scalias, and Rev. Jim. Leif’s sister-in-law was determined to throw an engagement party despite her injuries. Anne directed traffic, supervising the preparations like a drill sergeant from her wheelchair.
Tracy felt like royalty with everyone else waiting on her. The side dishes came from the deli, but Leif grilled steaks on the outside barbecue. The tempting aroma of sizzling beef and charcoal smoke wafted through the screen door. Maggie brought her world famous chocolate chip cake. While Mark and Luke were setting the table, Val was balancing on his crutches, stringing up streamers and wedding bells.
It didn’t seem possible that Anne had managed to put this party together without word leaking out to the press. She had sworn the guests to secrecy, and everyone, including the boys, kept their mouths sealed.
Ever since the New York newspapers announced to the world that Ronda Starr’s jewelry had been recovered, Tracy and Leif became the flavor of the month. They were under siege by the media who were intrigued by the story of the capture of the notorious Rick Timmons. Every talk show wanted an appearance by the courageous young woman and her handsome cop. Every magazine and newspaper wanted an interview with the romantic couple.
They agreed to an appearance on the Christian TV network, but once was enough. They turned down a barrage of lucrative offers to tell their story. But the reporters were ingenious. When they couldn’t squeeze a comment from Tracy or Leif, they interviewed everyone else in the area, from Sgt. McNeill to LeBlanc, the maitre d’ at the Landing.
The highlight for Tracy was when Keith Bradford proclaimed her the town’s favorite daughter, the heroine of the community.
She prayed that the furor would subside before their wedding. Somehow it had become the most anticipated event in Plymouth County since the marriage of Priscilla Mullins and John Alden. She didn’t want their precious day tur
ned into a media circus. Leif’s men offered to stand guard at the church and turn away anyone who appeared without an invitation. That sounded a bit drastic, but it might be necessary.
There would probably be photographers hiding in the bushes on the village green, but that couldn’t be helped. Tracy had learned not to flinch when a cameraman popped out from behind the produce at the grocery store. If the clamor continued, they might have to send out invitations by registered mail, delivered by CIA agents.
When the steaks were ready, all her favorite people joined hands around the table. Anne called on Rev. Jim to say grace.
The pastor beamed with pride as though he was personally responsible for the love match. Dear Lord, this is such a happy occasion, we are all filled with your love. Bless Tracy and Leif, give them a long and happy life together, and bless this wonderful food and fellowship.
Amen, they all chorused.
Under the table Leif reached for Tracy’s hand. She looked into his eyes and forgot there was anyone else in the room. The cop had captured her heart, locked it up, and thrown away the key.
She smiled now, remembering how hard she had tried to avoid Leif when she first came back to Allerton. But God knew best. He kept putting Leif in her path until she finally realized that this was the perfect man for her—strong, brave, honorable, compassionate, dependable. She needed a thesaurus to find all the right adjectives to describe how wonderful her man was. She sent up a small prayer of gratitude. Thank you, Lord, for finding Leif for me.
Maggie brought her back to the present. So, when’s the big day? I’ve been waiting too many years to be Tracy’s matron of honor.
Tracy laughed. Sorry about that, but I’ve waited too many years to find Leif. And now we have to wait a little longer. Jeff has four more weeks in the rehab program. We can’t have a wedding until my brother is here to walk me down the aisle.
Maybe I can get him released early, Leif suggested with a hopeful gleam in his eye.
No way, Tracy protested. Remember what Jeff said—you and Rev. Jim prayed him in there to stay.
Hey, can I call you Aunt Tracy? Mark piped up.
You’d better, she threatened, or I’ll give that baseball back to Manny Ramirez.
Aunt Tracy, Luke echoed, testing the sound of the name.
She had no idea what or whether she had eaten. She was already filled to the brim with love. She put her hand to her throat to touch the sapphire pendant Leif gave her as an engagement present. She cherished the words he whispered as he fastened the clasp at her neck. It’s almost as pretty as your eyes.
The pendant would be the something blue for her wedding. Her mother and her aunt were bringing something old, diamond and sapphire earrings that were a family heirloom. Something borrowed would be Maggie’s gorgeous wedding veil, a cloud of frothy white tulle studded with seed pearls. And something new was the perfect wedding dress that Lucille’s granddaughter was making for her.
When the last crumb of Maggie’s cake had been devoured, Leif got to his feet. I have an announcement.
Hear, hear, Maggie cheered. The great stone face speaks.
Tracy’s gaze locked onto Leif’s face. He put his hand on her shoulder and she felt the depth of his love in his gentle touch. My cup runneth over.
He gazed down at her with that smile that affected her like a stun gun. You know, I tried my best to resist this woman. I’m not sure exactly when I fell in love with her. It might have been when she let Luke bleed all over her. Or maybe it was when she made a bell ringer out of a guy with two left hands. But I think it was that day her car threw a rod. She was standing there in the middle of Main Street looking like a beautiful Cinderella whose coach had just turned back into a pumpkin. All I can tell you is that when that detective called from New York, he gave me the best assignment I ever had—‘Keep an eye on Tracy Dixon.’ Now, I take my job very seriously, so believe me when I say I’m going to keep my eye on Tracy Ericson for the rest of my life.
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Table of Contents
More than Great Riches
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI