Criminal Intent (MIRA) (37 page)

With his foot, Davy shoved it out of reach. Together, he and Pete got Teddy cuffed. “Read him his rights,” he told Pete, “and call for backup. If he gives you any trouble, drop him. I doubt there’s anybody in this room who wouldn’t testify that you did it in self-defense.”

Across the room, Annie was already untying the ropes that bound her daughter. Suddenly exhausted, Davy holstered his gun and knelt beside Louis. He was in shock, and his pulse was thin and thready, but he was alive.

“Get an ambulance out here while you’re at it,” he told Pete. “This guy’s lost a lot of blood, but if we can get him to the hospital quick enough, he might make it.”

Annie released the last of the ropes and freed her daughter. “You okay, sweetheart?” Davy asked her.

“I’m okay,” Sophie said, stretching to bring back the circulation. “He didn’t hurt me. But I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“I think that makes it unanimous,” he said.

“Look at those rope burns,” Annie said to him. “How could he do this to her?”

“Mom, it’s okay. We’re both alive. That’s what matters.”

In the distance, a siren began to wail. “That’s right,” Davy said, reaching out and touching the top of Sophie’s head. It had been close. A little too close. Past the lump in his throat, he said, “Hey, great hair.”

She gave him a bashful smile and then sat there, rubbing at her sore ankles as her mother slowly rose to her feet. Annie looked like she’d been hit by a Mack truck that had then backed up and run over her a second time. Her hair was a mess, her face smeared with dirt and her clothes saturated with blood. For once, there didn’t seem to be much fight left in her. She just stood there, looking at him, those big blue eyes telegraphing
all the things she wanted to say to him but couldn’t.

“I’m buying a house,” he said. It wasn’t what he’d intended to say; it was just what came out when he opened his mouth.

“Really?” she said, a hint of a smile playing about her mouth. “That’s nice, Hunter.”

He was an idiot. She’d nearly died, and here he was, talking real estate. He tried again. “I got your message.”

“I noticed. Thank you. I know that words are inadequate, but—”

“Annie,” he said hoarsely, the word wrenched from somewhere deep inside him, “do you really think you have to thank me?”

“It’s not my real name,” she said. “I’m sorry I lied. It’s not how I wanted things to be between us.”

“I don’t care. You’ll always be Annie to me. Is that okay with you?”

“You just saved my life. A little accommodation wouldn’t be out of order.”

“Listen, what you said in your message. About—” He glanced at Sophie, who was watching them with avid curiosity, and swallowed. “You know.”

“Forget it, Hunter. I was under a lot of stress. People say stupid things when they’re under stress.”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I can’t forget it.”

Those blue eyes seemed to grow bigger and rounder. “No?” she said.

He took a step closer. He needed to touch her. Had to touch her. Would die if he didn’t touch her. Reaching down, he took her hand in his. She was trembling, or maybe that was him. Maybe it was both of them. He couldn’t tell for sure just yet. “Come with me,” he said.

“Come with you?” she said, as the wailing siren drew closer. “Come with you where?”

He
brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “House hunting,” he said.

Those blue eyes widened. The corner of her mouth trembled a little, and then it turned up in a smile. “I’d like that,” she said, and stepped into his arms.

Six
months later

Portland, Maine

W
hen she stepped off the plane, he was waiting for her, a tall, rangy man with dark blond hair and anxious blue eyes that warmed when he picked her out of the crowd. Hands tucked into the pockets of his navy-blue ski parka, he stood there and watched her moving toward him. Her heart stumbled just a bit, as it always did when she first saw him. Her carry-on bag slung over her shoulder, she fought her way through the crowd, laughed and skipped the last few steps and threw her arms around him. They stood there, warmth pressed to warmth, mouth pressed to mouth, swaying slowly as people streamed like a river around them. “I missed you so much,” she said against his lips.

“I missed you, too, baby. So it’s over.”

“It’s over.” She took a step back, but still stayed within the circle of his arms. “Teddy Constantine sang like a little canary. Between that and my testimony, and the written evidence from Mac’s notes, Rachel Feldman had enough to put Marcus
Brogan away for five or six lifetimes. I think she’s going to be the best thing that ever happened to Atchawalla County. They already have a nickname for her.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

She grinned. “The Terminator.”

“Good for her. How’s Louis?”

“He’s recovering nicely. He sends his regards.” Sobering, she said, “How’s Soph?” As much as she trusted Davy, leaving Sophie with him for a week had been difficult. They’d gotten her into counseling almost immediately after she’d been kidnapped and nearly killed by Teddy Constantine, and Sophie was doing well. Even so, she still had occasional nightmares, and she suffered from mild bouts of anxiety when she had to deal with strangers. In the past six months, she hadn’t strayed far from her mother’s side.

“She’s doing great,” he said. “No nightmares since you left. I think it’s been good for us, having you gone for a few days. It’s given us a chance to do some bonding. She needs that. We both need that. I would’ve let her play hooky today and come with me, but she had a big math test and she didn’t want to miss it.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For caring about my daughter. For being a father to her when she needs one so badly.”

“Sophie’s a great kid. She makes it easy. Speaking of which, you saw your dad while you were there?”

“I did.” They turned and began walking, arm in arm, toward the baggage claim area. “It went a lot better than I thought it would. Maybe we were both softened up by the fact that he almost died.” Her pause was thoughtful. “We’re not ready for any cozy father-daughter stuff just yet, but we talked, and I think he’s starting to come around. His recovery has been amazing, especially for a man his age. Lottie says
she always told him he had the hardest head she’d ever seen. I guess she was right.”

“Sounds like Lottie’s been good for him.”

“She has. She stayed right by his side while he was in the hospital, and when he came home, she moved in and took care of him. If it weren’t for her, I suspect his recuperation would have taken a lot longer. I wish he’d found her years ago.” She quieted. “I also talked to Peggy Northrup. Boyd’s wife. I needed to tell her how sorry I am. I still feel as though I’m responsible for getting him killed.”

“You damn near got yourself killed, too. Don’t forget that. How’d it go with her?”

“Amazingly enough, she doesn’t blame me. She says that Boyd was a grown man who knew that confronting Luke Brogan was risky. He did it anyway, because that’s the kind of man he was. He cared about other people. It’s why he became a cop. And she hasn’t forgotten that I lost a husband, too.” Annie hesitated, took a breath. “The two of us did a little hugging, a little crying. It was cathartic. I felt so much better afterward.”

“I’m glad. You needed to put it behind you.”

“I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget.”

“Forgetting’s not the same as putting it behind you.”

“I know.” She briefly gnawed on her bottom lip, then said, more brightly, “So did I miss anything earth-shattering while I was gone?”

“I think Koko and Lance are in a family way.”

“Oh, that’s terrific. Just what we need. As if we don’t already have a big enough household, now we can add seventeen kittens to the mix.”

“And I had to call the plumber yesterday. The pipes in the downstairs bathroom froze. You can imagine how that went over with Gram.”

Picturing his feisty and opinionated grandmother, she held back a grin. “How much did that cost?”

“You
don’t even want to know. Let’s just say it’s a good thing you put your house in Atchawalla up for sale.”

“How’s work going?” Another surprise. When Ty and Faith had returned from New York in September with newborn twin boys, they’d announced their intentions to divide their time between the new house he’d built in Serenity and her townhouse in Manhattan. Ty had resigned his position as police chief to play househusband and nanny while Faith wrote her next blockbuster. The Board of Selectmen had offered the chief’s position to Davy, and to Annie’s surprise, her new husband, who’d spent the last eight weeks waiting for his final day with the Serenity PD, had accepted the job. It just proved her theory that if you scratched a cop, underneath the surface you’d find…a cop.

“It’s been crazy,” he said. “I think we’re coming up on another full moon.”

“Poor baby.” They walked a little farther, and she said, “Has Jessie heard anything back on her college apps yet?”

“I was saving that for later, but since you ask…she got into Stanford.”

The former high school guidance counselor in her leaped to the forefront, and she stopped walking so abruptly that he nearly tripped. “Davy Hunter,” she scolded, “how could you not tell me that first thing? Stanford! That’s incredible! When did she hear?”

“Yesterday. She called me last night. We must’ve talked for almost an hour. I’m so damn proud of her, Annie. A kid like that, coming from nothing, getting into a prestigious college like Stanford.”

“Can she afford Stanford?”

“Her mother left her a big life insurance policy. It should be enough to cover all four years. If she needs help, Faith and Ty will kick in.”

“So will we.”

“If
the damn house doesn’t bleed us dry. And we still have Sophie to think about. She’ll be heading off to college soon.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m not ready to think about it yet.”

They reached the baggage claim, and he rummaged through luggage of various shapes and sizes until he located hers. “Better zip up that coat,” he told her. “The weather out there’s a far cry from Mississippi.”

Annie rolled her eyes and put on a pained expression. “Yes, dear,” she said contritely.

“You’re a real pain in the ass,” he said. “Have I ever told you that?”

“More times than I can count.”

He set down the luggage and zipped her coat himself, all the way to her chin, then raised the fur-trimmed hood. His hands framing her face, he paused for an instant to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “I love you, Annie Hunter,” he said.

She folded her hands around his bigger ones and kissed him back. “I love you, too,” she said. Then murmured against his lips, “Come on, Hunter. If we get home before Sophie does, you can show me just how much you missed me.”

ISBN: 978-1-4603-6324-9

CRIMINAL INTENT

Copyright © 2006 by Laurie Breton.

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