She scoffed as her heels crunched over a pinecone. “The young lady could take care of herself.”
“Really?” One brow rose, making him look even more annoyingly handsome. “If I hadn’t been there, you would’ve taken a hard lick.”
She frowned, unable to think of a clever response. The thought of him knowing she’d depended on him, even for a brief occurrence, muddled her reasoning. At the time, regarding him as her hero hadn’t bothered her, but now being aware that he was a cop and undercover, well … she couldn’t decide what to think about that.
They continued on the narrow path, and Mick waited a long moment before saying, “We’ve been looking at Kelly’s businesses when we should’ve been looking at his personal life.”
“I was his personal life. Me and Thundering Gallop.” Something squashed under her shoe. She lifted her foot and found the remains of a caterpillar. Gross.
“Thundering Gallop?”
“His bettin’ horse. He bet a lot.” She shuffled her feet across a patch of grass. Mick looked at her as if she was addled. “What? I’m trying to remove a bug’s carcass from the sole of my shoe.”
He nodded slowly, amusement lingering in the crinkles of his eyes.
“Is that all your news from Pittsburgh?”
“Mostly. I have a couple deputies checking in on Kelly’s family members and past sweethearts.”
She locked her hands behind her back and nudged him with her shoulder. “Speakin’ of sweethearts, do you have a dame?”
He slowed and perused her. “That’s a bit personal, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s why I asked it.” She threw in a saucy smile.
“Ah.” He broke off a low-hanging branch and tossed it aside. “How about another time?”
No, no, no. He wasn’t off the hook this easily. And he’d better not think walking faster would cause her to give up. “Ya know all my business.”
He dismissed her extremely valid point with a grimace. “I have to know in order to protect you.”
“Nice out. Pull the protecting you mumbo jumbo. Not quittin’ here, sonny.” She linked her arm in his, his warm muscle solid under her fingers. The spontaneity of her action surprised her, and apparently Mick.
He tensed, glancing at her hand resting on his bicep, and then to her.
She withdrew her hand. What had gotten into her? “C’mon, dish it, Sarge. How many dolls have broken your heart? Or vice-versa?”
A tinge of something unnamed darkened the jade of his eyes, making her even more curious about his past. Had he fallen in love with the daughter of a steel factory owner, and her wealthy family forbade the match? Had he been mixed up in a tumultuous love triangle, fighting for her affection, only to lose his sweetheart to another man?
“I never wanted to be tangled in a romance. Never found the time for such things.”
Never found time? That was a lot of handsome wasted on nothing.
“Can we turn around now?” Her calf muscles screamed for mercy, and a cramp lingered in her side.
“Okay. I think we’ve gone far enough.”
She swept the hair off her forehead. “Aye, aye, drill sergeant.”
“On the hike back, you can tell me why you estranged yourself from your parents.”
CHAPTER 12
Her feet wouldn’t budge, as if they were suctioned to the dirt. “My parents? Why?” Anxiety’s tentacles clutched her throat, reaching down and squeezing her heart. No. She wouldn’t let Mick arouse the emotions she’d fought so hard to keep dormant.
“Yeah. Why have you estranged yourself from them?” His gaze penetrated her, stealing the breath from her chest.
She stared into the lofty pines hedging the beaten trail. The crooked branches hovered over them, spewing a web of shadows. “You’re the detective. Go find out for yourself.”
“You never mention them.”
“Nice deduction, flatfoot.” She poked his chest with her finger, and he took a step back, his eyes wary. “Ya don’t know a thing. What if they’re dead? A little insensitive, Sarge.”
“They’re alive. Your father lives in Redding, and your mother’s in Chicago.”
Her heartbeat climbed to an uncontrollable rate. “You’ve been checkin’ up on me?” A searing ache stretched behind her eyes. Of course, he’d put his nose in her business. What did she expect? Loyalty from a man wearing a badge? Colors dulled around her. Each breath exploded out her mouth in rapidity.
His gaze fixated on her chest, his mouth moving as though he was counting. “Steady, Vera. One breath every five seconds.” His arm curled around her back, and he placed a hand on her stomach.
It’d been years since she had a breathing attack this overwhelming. She slid her eyes shut.
“Keep ’em open.” His command strangely soothed her, and the pressure of his touch helped her regain control.
She peered through slit lids. Her legs threatened to crumple to the dirt, but Mick’s strong grip held her upright.
“Let’s get you back.” His thumb stroked the small of her back, each press lessening the tenseness in her muscles. “Vera. It wasn’t me that dug up the information.”
Her balance stabilized, and the cloudiness lifted from her vision. She braved a glance at him.
His eyes glistened with a comforting blend of concern and confidence. “Captain Harpshire retrieved the information.”
“What?” She stepped out of his reach, her knees wobbly, but her balance improved by the moment. “Tell him to stop.” What if he dug up the Redding incident? Her heart pounded. No. They’d promised it wouldn’t go on her record.
“He’s concerned about you.” Mick watched her closely. “Maybe you should rest. Let’s sit down in that shaded spot.” He reached to guide her elbow, but she barred her arms across her chest.
“If this is your little move to get me to talk, forget it.”
He shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with talking to a friend.”
His words shaved the edge off her resistance. She’d never had friends. Only lovers. Only people who’d taken and never gave back.
“What about your past?”
She squinted against the sun. No doubt the scorching heat contributed to her anxiety troubles, but despite the humid air and triggered pulse, her breathing evened. Somewhat. “I didn’t give you enough credit.”
“What do you mean?” His forehead wrinkled, almost convincing.
“Yesterday you attempted the tough cop approach to get your goods. You came up short. Now you’re masquerading as Mr. Hero. I thought ya were being kind in helping me breathe without my lungs rupturin’.” She let out a sardonic laugh. “I shoulda known better by now.” Men use whatever means to get what they wanted. And all Mick wanted was to get her well enough to siphon more information from her. “Leave me alone.”
He stared at her as though she’d just reeled off a slew of cuss words. “I’ve never seen someone so delusional. Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?”
“Ha! You call this help?” Forget the dizziness, because adrenaline overcompensated. She forced her legs to move swifter, leaving her interrogator behind.
“Slow down, woman,” he called out. “You need your strength back.”
And now he’d called her a weakling? Frustration fumed in the flush of her skin. She could’ve been in New York by now. Maybe even had several jobs lined up. But no, she was here, hashing out her past with a man who didn’t care one straw about her.
No more.
She’d return to the cabin only to gather her measly belongings and be on her way. Maybe Lacey would help her to the town Mick kept talking about. But how could she get to Lacey’s?
Feet, keep moving.
She’d crawl to the old lady’s joint if that meant escaping the sergeant.
Her balance seemed off again. Was there something in her shoe? Mick’s profile swept into her peripheral. She winced. Couldn’t the man catch a hint? “Go away.” Her elbow brushed his side, and she restrained from pumm
eling it into his gut.
“Stop and take a rest. Please.” His fingers grazed her wrist, but she pulled her arm into her side.
“I don’t need—” The heel of her shoe went sideways under her foot, and there was no way of catching herself.
Mick stretched his hands toward her but grasped only air.
Vera’s shriek pierced the sweltering sky. She curled on her side and clutched her foot.
He stooped next to her, taking in her anguished expression. “Are you all right? Where’s it hurt?” Dumb question, Ace. The girl clasped her ankle with a grip he’d seen many times over during his years in college sports. Her heaving breaths concerned him. Would she relapse into another panic attack?
“Gave out on me.” Her lips quivered and eyelids pinched tight. “Can’t move it.”
He dropped to his knees and set a gentle hand on her leg. “Let me have a look.”
“No. It hurts.” She smacked his knuckles, her fingernails nicking his skin. “Don’t touch me. Ya done enough.”
“Come on, Vera. I need to make sure it’s not broken.” He resisted the dread clogging his thoughts. Dear Lord, don’t let it be fractured. If he had to take her to get examined, the cover of their perfect forest hideout would be blown.
Vera groaned.
Okay, he couldn’t wait for her permission. He removed her shoe and tossed it aside. Cupping her heel in one hand, he used the other to assess the ankle.
“Gentle with the iron fingers.” Vera clenched her teeth and sucked in air.
It was already puffy, with more swelling doubtless on the way. “Take off your stocking.” Her head snapped up, her icy stare colder than a hundred winters. “Listen, I’m not trying to get a cheap thrill. It’ll be ten times more painful to take it off later.” Not to mention he wanted to check the coloring. Probably an ugly shade of purple.
She regarded him as if searching his face for sincerity. He tightened his jaw. What kind of man did she take him for? He wasn’t desperate to see a lady’s leg. He held out his hand, and surprisingly, she took it. He pulled her to a sitting position.
“Turn around, Sarge. I ain’t selling tickets.”
Mick stood and brushed dead grass from his pants. “Call me when you’re through.” A maple tree stood a few feet away. He stepped behind it and leaned against the moss-covered bark.
When would that girl realize he had no interest? None at all. The notion of him being enamored with her made his gut twist. She was impossible. She was so stubborn she made pack mules look sweet and compliant. She was—
Snap.
She was unhooking her garter belt.
What was he thinking about? Ah, no interest in the girl and her long, toned legs. He shook his head. Maybe he should’ve sought refuge farther out.
She groaned. Must’ve reached the ankle. A few seconds of stillness followed.
“All right. It’s off. You can come out of hidin’.”
Mick flicked a loose piece of bark to the ground. “How’s it look?” He was greeted with Vera’s scowl and wadded up stocking resting in her palm. He knelt beside her. Now the swelling equaled the size of a softball. “Put your hands around my neck.”
She shoved her nose heavenward. “Nope, gonna wait here until it feels better.”
Okay, I’ll come back for you in two days, was on the tip of his tongue. But he was already fatigued from fighting with her. He grabbed her shoe. “Here. Hold this.” When she reached for it, he slid an arm under her and scooped her up.
“I ain’t havin’ you carry me.” She kicked the healthy leg. Her heel struck his hip, and he struggled to remain straight-faced. If she didn’t behave, she’d knock her swollen foot.
“Vera, you can’t walk. It needs elevation.” And she needed sedation. He took in her pain-filled expression. The throbbing must’ve intensified.
She was as stiff as the logs he’d been chopping every day and making his arms just as sore. “Relax. Just relax.” He wouldn’t reach fifty yards this way. “Quit straining your neck. Put your head on my chest.”
She complied.
His heart squeezed as he set off toward the cabin. Her curvy frame sank deeper into his arms, and she settled her head over his heart. Oh, brother. That’s what he asked for, wasn’t it? But he didn’t ask for the wafts of lavender to tingle his senses. Or her wayward wisps of hair to tickle his neck. “How are you feeling?”
“It hurts somethin’ fierce.”
“Probably will for a while.” He managed to answer between breaths. “Better prop it up tonight. And probably tomorrow too.” He glanced at her vulnerable green eyes and pouty lips. “Sorry, Vera.” His mind raced ahead. He’d have to carry her up and down the steps for meals. No, he’d bring the food to her. But then, what about the outhouse? Couldn’t bring that to her.
A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and settled in the corner of his eye. He blinked hard. This wasn’t working at all as he imagined. He pressed his lips together. The solution to this case couldn’t come soon enough.
“So she went to Chicago,” Vera mumbled as she stared out the bedroom window. “Oh, hush up, will ya?” The sparrows seemed to mock her pain. Chirping their morning song without a care while she stewed over the offbeat screwball formerly known as her mother. The woman who’d not only abandoned her but left her alone with the monster. The pool of self-pity lured her, but if she took the plunge, misery would drain into her soul, causing all the painful memories to float to the surface.
Knock. Knock.
She scrambled toward the bed, jumping onto the mattress and kicking her left leg onto the pillow. All set. Wait, wrong ankle. It was supposed to be her right. A little switcheroo, and now she sat perfectly.
“Come in.” She threw a quiver in her tone.
“I brought you some breakfast.” Mick balanced a tray on one hand. “All I had was strawberry jam.”
She straightened her back against the headboard and allowed Mick to set the wooden tray on her lap. Oh yeah, a girl could get used to this kind of treatment.
He studied her ankle. “How’s it feeling?”
“In pain.”
“Strange. It’s not swollen anymore.” With a scrunched brow, he bent lower to get a closer look. “Must’ve bruised the bone.”
“Yeah, something.” She contorted her face as she centered her foot on the pillow.
“Well, I’ll be back. I’m going to drive over to Mrs. Chambers’ to call the captain. Do you need anything before I go?”
Yesterday morning, she had needed assistance, but as the day had gone on, the pain had lessened to almost none at all. Even the bruising had turned a faint yellow. Could she help it if she was a quick healer? The decision to keep on the injured list had been made when she’d realized she wouldn’t have to pump a million buckets of water. Million meaning five or six, but still her forearms felt like snapping in half every time she’d worked that rusty pump.
Vera even had her fix of attention as Mick doted on her, keeping her company by playing games of gin rummy and then explaining his favorite pastime—poker. He’d told her stories of how he connived his younger cousin to spy on other players’ hands and that they’d use a code of tapping to communicate the cards. Mick taught her how he’d tap out Ace, and it wasn’t unlike Morse code. Plus, he hadn’t approached the subject of her horrid youth. Maybe he’d keep it that way.
But now, her little deception forced her to sacrifice a trip to Lacey’s. Sour deal. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
“I almost forgot.” He handed her a napkin he’d stowed away in his pocket. “The jam is runny.” His dimpled smile made her insides flutter. “I won’t be long.”
Then he was gone.
Vera filled her cheeks with air and exhaled. Hearing the car’s engine lowered her mood. She spent long moments staring out the window, watching the willowy clouds stretch across the sky. Maybe she could write a new song about a radiant girl who was plagued with unending boredom.
But then, an idea formed. One she hadn
’t thought of—or rather had an opportunity for—until this pivotal moment. A twinge of guilt poked at her heart, but she pushed it away. If he could know her business, then why couldn’t she know his? Only fair. She stuffed the piece of toast in her mouth and slapped her feet on the floor.
Destination? Mick’s bedroom.
Only a pinch in her healing ankle argued with her quick steps, and she entered the square room that breathed of musk and order. “At ease, Sergeant.”
The bed was made with the sheets tucked tightly under the mattress and a blanket folded at the bottom. Not one wrinkle. His shoes were lined up against the wall, and every other one had a rolled-up pair of clean socks slipped inside the sole. Wow.
She brushed her hand over the top of his dresser. Where was the clutter? No loose change or rumpled receipts. Nothing. Not even a candy wrapper.
But on the top of the nightstand lay a book. She picked up the black leather binding and ran her fingers across the gold metallic script—Holy Bible. When was the last time she had seen a Bible? An envelope protruded from inside the cover. Easing the flap from its tucked position, she peeked inside.
A newspaper clipping?
She slid the paper out and placed the envelope on the bed next to the Bible.
Woman, 22, Fatally Shot on Fifth Avenue
Vera stared at the bold black words, biting the insides of her cheeks.
Why would Mick keep only the headline? Who was this woman? She turned over the paper and was met with jumbled words from another story. No other markings. No other clues as to who this person was in relation to the sergeant.
She glanced at the Bible. Maybe he had more mementos stuffed inside the pages. Vera held the book in the light of the window and flipped through it. There weren’t any more hints to Mick’s awkward keepsake, but something else caught her eye—passages she’d heard her grandmother say. For some strange reason, poring over the familiar words made Vera feel close to her again.
“I’m back.”
What? No!
She must’ve been reading longer than she’d thought. Pulse racing, Vera shut the Bible, dropped it on the nightstand, and bolted.
The Red Canary Page 11