She Can Tell (35 page)

“Mr. High-and-Mighty?” Vince snorted. “Of course not. He’d never have gone along with it.”

Pete’s stomach balled up, sick and pathetic as the rest of him. He’d taken Vince’s side over the chief’s. He’d betrayed the best man he knew. Why? Because the chief was human? Pete’s fingers tightened on the chair back.

Vince leaned closer. “Which is why he’s gone and you’re driving his truck and sitting behind his desk.”

Pete’s vocal cords wouldn’t respond.

“We expect you to play nice, Lieutenant Winters.” Vince circled, like a hawk over its prey. “You have three kids and a wife who doesn’t work, right? Keep this to yourself. You can be terminated just as easily as Chief O’Connell.”

A hooded man stood across the icy ground. A dark blob fell from his glove and stained the snow at his feet. His coat was splotched with dark stains, and though his face was but a blackened hole, she could feel his eyes on her.

He was watching. He knew.

Her legs trembled. The rest of her body was locked in place. Even her scream was frozen, trapped in her throat with no way to escape.

“Rachel, wake up.”

She bolted upright. Sweat coated her clammy forehead. Mike’s hand splayed on her back, supporting her. “Just a nightmare.”

But was it? Something about the dream was familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. “I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. He’s my own personal bogeyman.”

Mike’s hand moved in a slow circle. “Tell me what you see.”

“A man’s shadow. He’s wearing a hood that shadows his face, but his coat has dark stains on it. I think they’re blood.”

“Do you remember anything about the first time you saw him?”

Rachel nodded. A shiver crossed her bare shoulders. Mike pulled her close and tugged the blanket over her.

His arms wrapped around her. She rested her head against his solid chest. “I was six and sick with chicken pox. There was a noise outside. I remember being hot, really hot, and itchy. I got out of bed and went to my window. It had snowed since I went to bed. He was out there, standing in the snow, looking at me.”

“You’re sure this was a nightmare?”

“I assumed.”

“Did you call anyone?”

“No.” The loneliness in the memory was as clear as the vision. “Sarah was just an infant and my mother was, well, you know. I wasn’t allowed out of my room. Couldn’t risk getting them sick.”

“So, you had a high fever and couldn’t go to your parents?” Mike’s voice was tinted with anger.

“I guess I could’ve yelled for my father. Believe it or not, he was the available one back then. Before my mother died, he took care of pretty much everything. But after Sarah was born, the stress level in our house was at an all-time high. It was a downward spiral from there.”

Mike stroked her hair for a minute. “So you’re not one hundred percent sure your father was in the house that night?”

“I never thought about it. I just assumed he was in their room.” She stopped, suddenly realizing what Mike was implying. No. It couldn’t be. Or could it? “Do you think I saw my father? Do you think he killed Harry?”

He hugged her closer. “I don’t know anything.”

“I don’t think he would have left her alone with the baby.” Sarah was an easy baby. If they were both asleep…Rachel had never thought of her father as a violent man. But the way he’d changed when he’d told them about the affair made her wonder if he had any other skeletons in the closet—or basement.

Rachel nestled her head against Mike’s shoulder. “Don’t you have any deep, dark secrets, He-Man?”

“I was married once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It didn’t last a year and ended a decade ago. Laura liked the idea of being a Philadelphia detective’s wife. The reality was a different story. My mother was diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer. When I took the job as chief here and moved home to take care of her, Laura filed for divorce.”

Anger flared in Rachel. “What a bitch—” She covered her mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. It was fine.” Mike laughed. “Laura liked the city, and she was tired of me anyway. All I ever did was work.”

“Plenty of people like their work.”

“I did anyway.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault you lost your job.” Rachel’s hand settled on his abdomen, but she wasn’t admiring the rippled muscles. She was thinking about all that antacid He-Man was stocking and the fact that his mother had died of stomach cancer.

“No, it isn’t. Whoever is trying to hurt you and Vince Mitchell can share that blame.” He covered her hand with his. “Anyway, the divorce was more of a relief. We weren’t a good match. Mom was dying, and I was glad to have that year with her. It had been just me and her since I was ten.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t miss the catch in his voice. She nodded at their joined hands. “Don’t you think you should get that checked out?”

His blue eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to start too, are you? God, Quinn is enough of a pest.”

Rachel sat up, pulling the sheet to cover her breasts. “So, I’m a pest if I care about you?’

“I didn’t say—”

“You get to care about people, but they aren’t allowed to care back?’

“I—”

“You
made
me get an X-ray, but you can ignore
this
.” She tapped her forefinger on his flat stomach. “This could be serious.”

“But—”

“Look, He-Man. That’s not the way this works.” Rachel gestured between them. “And I totally get that you’re afraid of what it is.”

Mike looked horrified. He squirmed. “You don’t like closed spaces or the sight of blood. I have this phobia about all things medical. Sometimes I freak out.” His gaze dropped to her hand, still resting on his rib cage. “My mother’s death was pretty ugly. Sometimes, the treatment was worse than the disease.”

“Well, you’re going to have to man-up and find out what’s wrong.” She linked her hand with his. “You’re not alone if you don’t want to be. You have a decision to make. I’m not exactly sure what we have here either, but I don’t do things halfway. I’ll even go with you.”

Mike opened his mouth. Closed it. Cleared his throat. Then he rolled over, tugged her down on the mattress, and took her mouth in a searing kiss.

Rachel put her palm on his forehead and pushed his head up. “No. You will not distract me with sex.”

His ducked around her hand. His mouth moved down her neck and found the sensitive hollow under her jaw. Tingles shot deep into her belly as his lips roamed. Her hand strayed to grip his shoulder.

“This is an important discussion, dammit.” But as she said it, she tilted her head back to give him more access. Her fingers dug into the heavy muscle of his back. Mike shifted his weight and slid a hand between her legs. His mouth trailed across her collarbone.

“I am making a mental note.” Rachel’s eyes fluttered shut as callused fingers slid inside her. “Ah. This discussion is not…oooh…ver.”
Gasp
.

The nightstand drawer scraped open and shut. Mike nudged her legs farther apart and settled between them.

“You cannot distract me with sex.”

With one long and slow thrust, he stroked deep inside her. Rachel arched her back and wrapped her legs around his hips to take all of him. Pleasure burst in a sparkly rainbow behind her eyelids. She opened her eyes. He was staring down at her with complete focus—and as much tenderness as desire. He eased back and thrust again.

And she gave herself up to the sensation, to him. “For more than an hour.”

Will pulled off onto the shoulder and drove onto the grass. He parked his truck behind a stand of trees, flipped up his hood, and tossed back the last of his beer. Drizzle speckled the windshield. Across the field, light shone from the
first-floor windows of her big stone house. He couldn’t miss it.

He stumbled out of the truck, then leaned back in and pulled the latch to fold the driver’s seat forward. His hand curled around the aluminum baseball bat he’d stashed on the floor of the cab. He tested its weight with a trial swing. Perfect.

He headed across the meadow. Tall weeds squished under his boots as he breathed in the isolation. Rachel Parker’s closest neighbor was a half mile down the road, and town was a fifteen-minute drive away. Even if he tripped an alarm, he figured he had at least ten minutes before the cops showed up. He only needed five. That bitch was going to pay. His nuts still hurt, and there was no way he was going to jail. She’d be sorry. So sorry she wouldn’t testify against him.

The old farmhouse stood in solitary relief against the night sky. Was she home? Circling to the right, he ducked under a wet branch. Water dripped onto his head and into his eyes. He brushed it away.

There. Her pickup was parked near the house. The front of the farmhouse was dark. He looped around to the backyard. Concealed within a stand of pines, he found the kitchen window. A dark-haired woman was in front of it, looking down, probably doing dishes or something. Will’s vision blurred, and he rubbed his eyes.

A twig snapped to his left. Will froze for a few seconds and listened to the sounds of insects chirping and rain dropping on dead leaves. He turned back to the window. Excitement swirled in his belly as focused on the brunette.

The Watcher pulled his boat up onto the muddy bank and tied the bow line to a tree. He strapped on his backpack, full of the necessary supplies, and lifted the extra-large gas cans out onto the muddy creek side. The game trail was sloppy, but the mud thinned out as he headed uphill toward Rachel’s farm. Tall, wet stalks of grass slapped at the knees of his black jeans. Though the rain had stopped, water dripped from the canopy. After tonight, he wasn’t going to have to worry about Rachel anymore.

Soggy leaves squished under his boots as he climbed the trail. Lights glimmered through the dripping foliage ahead. He circled the property to get a better vantage point. Her truck was parked right where it was supposed to be. But where was the cop’s vehicle? The Watcher had the perfect distraction planned. Half of the dynamite he’d stolen from Lost Lake was already in place. He checked the luminous dial of his Timex. Plenty of time.

He continued around until he was directly behind the barn. He stashed the fuel cans in the underbrush and settled in to wait.

Something large rustled in the bushes nearby. His head swiveled. Deer? Too noisy. He crept across the spongy ground. The bulky figure of a large man lumbered noisily through the trees and stepped into the open. With eyes accustomed to the darkness, the Watcher assessed him. The man’s purpose and identity were clear. A baseball bat swung from Will Martin’s hand.

Will turned suddenly and looked right at him. Recognition crossed Will’s intoxicated features. He’d have to die, which was appropriate, considering he’d taken advantage of Tanya just like Harry had with Barbara. Everything really did come full circle.

“Hey.” Will stumbled toward him.

Plans were never perfect. He’d have to shift his timetable around to deal with Will.

“What are you doing here?” Will slurred.

The Watcher’s hand strayed to the knife in his pocket. He opened the blade. “Same as you, Will. Just cleaning up some loose ends.”

The knife-hand slid from his pocket and into Will’s abdomen with a sick, wet sound. Will’s mouth opened. Blood trickled out as he pitched forward.