CHAPTER 12
Hannah didn’t think the police were ever going to leave. For the two hours, she curled on the sofa fighting post adrenaline jitters and a bad case of morning sickness while a fresh-faced deputy fired off questions she hadn’t the slightest clue how to answer. Another deputy took John’s statement in the kitchen while John treated the cut on Honeybear’s nose. By the time the last police officer walked out the door at midnight, Hannah was almost too tired to care.
Feeling the nausea roil in her stomach, the fatigue press into her with an almost physical force, she leaned against the sofa back and closed her eyes.
“If a picture speaks a thousand words, I’d say you were wiped out, Red.”
She opened one eye to see John coming toward her, a box of crackers in his hand. “I’m totally annihilated.”
Without asking, he opened the box and handed her two crackers on a napkin. “A couple of these might help.”
“Ah, fuel for a pregnant woman’s soul.” Anxious for the nausea to pass, she took a bite of cracker. “Do the police have any leads?”
“They dusted for prints, but it’s doubtful they’ll get anything.” He grimaced. “The deputy told me you said the guy was wearing gloves.”
She nodded, the image of the man’s leather-clad fingers closing around the gun eliciting a shiver. “What else?”
“There was no blood from the broken back window, so they won’t be able to type his blood. No tire tracks. They got a boot print, but identifying him that way is a long shot.”
“He’s not your run-of-the-mill burglar, is he?”
“We both know he didn’t come in to steal.”
“He came for me.” She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill that had crept over her. “He’ll be back. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. And it terrifies me.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I told them what happened at Angela Pearl’s. The sheriff’s department agreed to put an extra patrol on duty tonight. A deputy is going to cruise by every couple of hours to keep an eye on things.”
The words didn’t make her feel any safer. At the moment, she didn’t think anything could make her feel safe. Not when gunshots still echoed in her ears, and she could feel the sharp claws of terror piercing her as she’d run for her life.
“A patrol isn’t going to be enough,” she said.
His eyes were keen on hers. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he’s not going to stop.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t. But I feel it.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I feel it very strongly. I know he’s dangerous and determined and he’s not going to stop until—”
“That’s not going to happen,” he cut in.
“John, I can’t stay here. I’ve got to go—”
“That’s not going to happen, either.”
She looked over at him and felt that familiar roll just below her ribs as he glared back at her. What was it about those vivid blue eyes that made her heart pitch like a tiny ship on a raging sea every time he looked at her?
“You agreed to take me to a shelter,” she said.
“I’ll take you to RMSAR headquarters.”
His response should have annoyed her, but it didn’t. She was scared; he was willing to help her. While that was an enormous comfort, all she could think of when she looked into his eyes was that she’d put him in danger, as well.
“What if he finds us there?” she asked.
Something dark jumped behind the calm blue of his eyes. “He won’t.”
Judging from his scowl, he wasn’t going to back down, so Hannah let it go. She trusted John to keep her safe, trusted him with her life and her unborn child’s life. But for all his courage and strength and determination, she wasn’t convinced he realized fully what they were up against. She wasn’t even sure herself.
“During avalanche season, some of us stay at headquarters so we’re available in the event of a call out. There’s a back room with cots and blankets as well as a vending machine.” He held up the crackers, a smile softening his features. “We’ll bring our own crackers.”
“I can’t hide out forever at RMSAR headquarters.”
He silenced her with a don’t-argue-with-me stare. “It’ll keep you safe through the night. When morning comes, we’ll get with Buzz and file a report with the Denver Police Department. Then we’ll pay a visit to that shrink and see if he can help you remember.”
The crackers had helped with the nausea, but the fear coiling in her gut was a hundred times worse. The logical side of her brain told her spending the night at RMSAR headquarters was the only smart thing to do. But the side of her that had grown to care about John knew that as long as she was with him, he was in danger, too.
* * *
John took the scenic route to RMSAR headquarters—Colorado-style. After strapping Hannah into the passenger seat and securing Honeybear in his extralarge pet carrier in the rear, he rammed the Jeep into four-wheel drive and did what he’d wanted to do since buying the thing—took to the back roads. Half an hour and twenty-two miles later, he slapped off the headlights and pulled stealthily into the rear lot. For the first time since leaving the hospital with Hannah the day before, he was utterly certain no one had followed them.
If only that were the sole danger they faced.
The sentiment rang like the echo of a rifle shot in his head. He knew better than to tempt fate or risk getting caught up in the very thing he spent so much time and energy fighting when it came to this woman. John could keep her safe; he could even afford to care about her a little. But he could never, ever let it go any deeper. That was John Maitland’s number-one rule. A rule he never broke no matter how tempting the woman. Because as surely as his life had somehow become entangled with hers, he knew the time would come for him to walk away.
The thought sobered him as effectively as a glass of ice water thrown in his face. What was he thinking, letting himself feel something for a woman who’d already been through so much? A woman who didn’t have a clue what kind of man he was, or understand the dangers a relationship with him would bring to her and her unborn child?
As he unlocked the door and ushered Hannah inside, he pondered his options, realized he didn’t have a choice but to stay the night with her. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, someone was trying to kill her. At this point, no matter how he felt about her, he was the only person who could keep her safe. He wouldn’t shirk that responsibility. The trick, he supposed, was going to be getting through the night without doing something stupid.
“How did he know I was at your cabin?”
John took in the sight of her and felt that odd sensation of free-falling grip him just tight enough to make him woozy, like a glass of wine on an empty stomach. “Conceivably, he could have followed us from the hospital the day you were released.”
“How did he know I was alone tonight?”
John had been hoping to delay discussing the matter for a while, at least long enough for her to get some sleep. He didn’t like the pale cast to her face. Not when she was pregnant and still recovering from hypothermia and a serious fall.
Taking her hand, he guided her past the dispatch station to the sleeping quarters at the rear of the building. Reaching into a commercial-size storage unit, he pulled out two cot frames and began unfolding the first.
Walking around behind him, Hannah tugged down a rolled-up mattress. “We’ve moved around quite a bit, John. From the hospital to Angela Pearl’s, to your cabin. Whoever is after me seems to be finding me quickly and with relative ease.”
John took the mattress from her and unrolled it. “You’re tired. Why don’t we discuss this in the morning?”
“Why don’t we discuss it now?”
Arching a brow at the challenge in her voice, he turned to her, felt that wave of dizziness engulf him when he saw the flash of temper in her eyes. Even angry a
nd frightened, her beauty struck him hard enough to send him back a step.
“You’re dead on your feet, Red.” Taking her shoulders, he eased her to a sitting position on the cot. “You’re not doing yourself or your baby any good driving yourself to exhaustion.”
She stood back up. “Don’t patronize me. I’ll be dead period if I don’t figure out what’s going on and why.”
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” Even as he made the promise, the thought of someone getting to her, hurting her, made him break a cold sweat. He knew self-recrimination was counterproductive, but he couldn’t help but think he should have been there for her tonight.
“I can’t sit around and wait for him to make a move,” she said. “I need to do something.”
“Like what?”
“Like…going through mug shots or hypnosis therapy.”
“Tonight?”
She glared at him. “I hate this waiting.”
“It’s after midnight.” He gentled his voice. “Sit down.”
Sighing, she lowered herself to the cot.
“I called Buzz earlier and told him everything.” Now it was John’s turn to sigh. “He thinks our man is in law enforcement. Maybe a cop.”
Her eyes widened. “What makes him think that?”
“Several reasons, but the kicker came earlier during the call out.” John had debated on whether or not to tell her; he hadn’t wanted to worry her. But he knew keeping information from her wouldn’t help either of them. “The call out was a prank.”
“You mean there was no accident?”
He nodded. “I’ve been on the team for six years, Hannah. In all those years, we’ve never had a false alarm. What’s odd about this particular call is that it came in on a police emergency channel. From someone who knew exactly what to say to get us geared up and out the door quickly. He knew exactly where to take us on a wild-goose chase so you would be alone.”
“That doesn’t prove he’s a cop.”
“No, but when you consider the fact that he knew you’d been rescued by RMSAR when only one local newspaper carried the story. That he knew which hospital you’d been taken to. That he knew when you’d been released, and where you went from there.”
“He could have called the hospital—”
“The hospital doesn’t give out information unless the person calling is family—or in law enforcement. I checked the newspapers. The only paper that has carried the story so far was the Elk Grove Sentinel. Unless our man lives in Elk Grove, it’s unlikely he would have seen the story. The only way he could have known was if he had access to the police report Buzz filed.”
“That still doesn’t—”
“Yesterday, when you had the flashback in Buzz’s office, I was watching you, Hannah. You reacted to the photograph—”
“The police uniform.” She raised stricken eyes to his. “Oh my God.”
“Buzz thinks this guy put out a false alarm, knowing I would leave the cabin.” His jaw flexed. “So he could get to you.”
Leaning forward, she put her face in her hands. “And my baby.”
The urge to go to her tested his control, but John held his ground. It wouldn’t do him any good to touch her, not when she was vulnerable and the need was eating at him like a hungry rat. “If this guy’s a cop, then he’ll know every move we make unless we keep it under wraps,” he said.
She raised her gaze to his. “Cops are supposed to be the good guys. Why on earth would a police officer want to hurt me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
“How?”
“You’re remembering a little more every day. If we can get in tomorrow to see the psychiatrist Dr. Morgan recommended, or if you have another dream tonight…” His words trailed when her eyes widened. “What?”
“I had another dream,” she said abruptly. “In all the excitement, I’d forgotten about it until now. I didn’t think it was important. I mean, the dreams are just blending together. They don’t really make sense.”
Forgetting the rule about not touching her, he dropped onto the cot beside her. “Tell me about the dream.”
“It was different than the others,” she began. “It was more like…déjà vu than a dream. Like I’d been there before.” She looked at him, a line forming between her brows. “I was standing in a kitchen. A typical kitchen with butcher-block countertops and yellow curtains. He was with me. It was our kitchen. We lived there…together.”
Jealousy stirred darkly in the pit of his stomach, but John curbed it with ruthless precision, determined not to react.
“It should have been a happy time,” she continued. “I felt that in my heart. I was going to tell him…something important.”
“Tell him what?”
“I’m not sure.” Squeezing her eyes closed, she massaged both temples with her fingers. “The memory is…close. I can feel it. I’m happy about the news. But I know he won’t be. I know he’s going to be angry when I tell him, but I don’t understand why.” Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with pain and seeking his. “The baby.” Her hand rested against her abdomen. “I was going to tell him about the baby. His baby.”
John winced inwardly. He wondered what kind of a man wouldn’t be happy about having a child. “What happened?”
“He became…enraged after I told him I was pregnant. I’d seen him like that before, but this rage was darker, volatile. He—” A breath shuddered out of her, and she raised her hand to her cheek. “He struck me.”
For a moment, John couldn’t see. The rage boiled black and violent and all too familiar in his chest. He’d had his suspicions all along about what had happened to her. He’d seen the marks on her body. Seen the fear in her eyes. He’d been there too many times himself not to see the truth. The reality of what she’d gone through infuriated him—and broke his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.
She looked down at her white-knuckled hands, relaxed them.
“Who is he?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. The memory is…vague. But we were…together. My husband, maybe.”
Feeling like his heart was about to explode, John rose and crossed the room, refusing to acknowledge that his hands were shaking. He couldn’t look at her and want her and know she belonged to another man. He couldn’t gaze into her pretty eyes and know the man who held her heart in his palm had hurt her so brutally.
But John had to know. “Do you love him?”
Her gaze met his levelly. “No.”
“Are you still involved with him?”
“I left him after…he hit me. It was final. Official. Maybe even a divorce. I’m not sure, but I know it’s over.”
John told himself the words didn’t matter. That he hadn’t been secretly hoping to hear them. That his legs hadn’t gone weak with relief the moment she’d uttered them. Knowing she was free wouldn’t change his mind about getting involved.
“Do you remember his name?” he asked. “Or an address?”
“No.”
“If Buzz were to show you some photos tomorrow, do you think you would recognize him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t really remember his face. I just…have an impression of him in my mind.” She let out a long sigh, regarding him thoughtfully. “You’re…angry.”
“The son of a bitch battered you. That pisses me off.”
“I stopped it.” A single tear broke over the barrier of her lashes, belying her strong words. She wiped it off with the back of her sleeve.
“Was it the first time?”
“I think so.” Her gaze skittered away from his. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t be ashamed.” The words came out more harshly than he’d intended, but he didn’t take them back. The thought of a man hurting her enraged him enough to make him shake inside and out, his chest ache with the need to protect her. But, dammit, he couldn’t let her believe any of this was her fault.
John knew f
irsthand the ravages of that kind of shame. The burden of secrecy. Both of those things had cost him plenty growing up. As a boy, the weight had crushed him, stolen his childhood, his very innocence like a thief in the night. As a man, his father’s legacy had left a cold place inside him—and a lonely future that didn’t include the love of a woman.
For the first time, he realized just how far he’d ventured beyond his self-imposed boundaries. He cared about her, he realized, wanted her more than he could admit—even to himself. Worse, he saw both of those things reflected in her eyes every time she looked at him. The truth left him incredulous and deeply troubled. And he knew he was going to have to tell her the truth.
“Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault,” he said.
“It was my mistake. I was in control of my life—”
“Batterers use violence as a means of control.” He cut Hannah a hard look. “The women involved usually don’t have a choice.”
“I was with him by choice. I could have—”
“Could have what, Hannah? Controlled his temper for him? Left him? Stopped him?”
She looked down at her hands. “I could have used better judgment.”
He wanted to go to her, to hold her and soothe away the shame and pain he saw in her eyes. Logic told him to walk away. To get the hell out of there before he made a mistake they would both end up regretting. But John wasn’t thinking logically when he looked at her and felt the need burn him. Two swift strides took him to her. Her eyes widened, but he didn’t stop. Leaning down, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He wanted her in his arms, and there was nothing on this sweet earth that could keep him from her.
“It’s not your fault,” he growled. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Intellectually I know you’re right. I ultimately did the right thing—I left him—but there’s another side of me that wonders why I let it happen. Why did I put myself in that kind of situation? Why didn’t I do something about it before it went that far? Why did I bring an innocent child into that kind of environment?”
“A woman doesn’t plan for something like that to happen to her. It just happens. And, dammit, it happens a lot.”
A Hero to Hold Page 17