Terminal 9 (15 page)

“You ready to call it a night?” Mac loosened his tie and slid behind the wheel.

“You didn't get the warrant?”

“I did, but there's no point in going over there now. I called for a lab tech. We'll hit it first thing in the morning.”

“Good.” She glanced at her watch. “The evening isn't completely shot. By the way, did you call Kristen?”

Mac winced. “I totally forgot.”

“Better let her know what's going on.”

Mac hesitated. He had to call but he sure didn't want to. He'd much rather face a gunslinger than a woman scorned.

“She'll understand.” Dana sounded as though she knew what he was thinking. “Come on, Mac. Kristen isn't Linda. Besides, how often is she called out on a job?”

“Probably at least as often as we are.” Once they started driving, Mac pulled out his cell and checked for messages. Kristen's number showed up and he dialed it, feeling a little like he was going into battle.

“Mac.” Kristen greeted in a cheerful voice. “I heard about your little adventure. Are you and Dana okay?”

“We're fine. Doesn't look like I'm going to make dinner though.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Not since four-thirty, but it's nearly nine.”

“And that's a problem because . . . ?”

“I don't want you to go to any trouble on my account.”

“Trouble? Fat chance. I just got home myself. I was going to suggest you stop at Chen's for takeout. Get whatever you want and bring me their number three special.”

“Where's Chen's?”

“On Alder, just off Broadway.” She gave him directions to the restaurant and then directions to her house, which was in an older but trendy neighborhood in southwest Portland.

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure, Mac. You're not getting out of our date that easily.”

She laughed, but Mac had a feeling she was serious.

“Okay. I'll be there in about forty-five minutes.”

“Hurry. I'm starved.”

MAC COULDN' TKEEP THE SMILE OFF HIS FACE when he hung up and turned to Dana. He wasn't sure why the prospect of having Chinese takeout with Kristen pleased him. He only knew it did.

“I take it she wasn't upset.” Dana kept her eyes focused on the rain dotting the windshield. If Mac hadn't known better, he'd have thought she was angry with him. But that didn't make sense. She was the one who set the crazy thing up.

“Nope. She understood.”

Several minutes passed with only the rhythmic
swish-swish
of the windshield wipers. Finally, Mac asked, “Are you okay? Are you mad that I'm having dinner with Kristen?”

“Of course not. Why would I be?” Dana was still staring straight ahead, not looking at Mac.

Mac maneuvered the car onto Highway 30 toward Portland. Women could be so exasperating. “Would you like to join us? I'm sure Kristen wouldn't mind, and I sure wouldn't.”

She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Honestly, Mac. Do you really think I'd do that?” She leveled an annoyed look on him and turned to look out the side window, clearly putting an end to their conversation.

A few minutes later, she turned back and apologized. “Okay, I am upset that you're seeing Kristen. Are you satisfied?”

Mac was a bit startled, not only by Dana breaking her long silence but by her admission that she was jealous. Was it possible that she still had a romantic interest in him? “If you feel that way, then why did you set us up?”

“We've been over this before. I really don't think it's a good idea for us to be together. But that doesn't mean I can turn off my feelings.” She folded her arms and shivered. A tear glistened on her cheek and she brushed it away.

Mac's heart leaped at the possibility that Dana might finally agree to date him. “Maybe you should reconsider. I'm only going out with Kristen because—”

“I know. I set it up.And no, you should go. I'm—I'm just coming off the adrenaline rush. It's hitting me a little late, but . . . Wow. I didn't think taking that guy out would shake me up like this.”

Mac reached over and patted her arm. “You did good, partner. In fact, if it hadn't been for you, Tyler would have gotten away.” Mac hadn't really taken time to think about it before; maybe he hadn't wanted to. He didn't much like the idea that a female cop could not only outrun him but subdue the bad guy without his help. “Where did you learn to run like that anyway?”

“I ran track in high school and college, remember?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah.” He grinned at her. “Guess I won't feel so bad about not being able to catch up with you.”

She knuckled him in the shoulder. “Next time I'll wait for you.”

“Right.” Mac frowned. “Just one thing. I'd just as soon you not broadcast your conquest around the guys—especially Philly and Russ. When they hear I got beat by a girl, they'll never let me live it down.”

Dana laughed out loud. “Thanks, Mac. You've just given me the ultimate weapon. I'll keep my mouth shut—for a price.”

“What's that?” Mac feigned a worried look. Or maybe the look was for real. His stomach was in knots and Mac couldn't contribute it all to hunger.

“I'm not sure.” She rubbed her chin. “I'll have to think about it.”

MAC DROPPED DANA OFF at the OSP parking lot and followed the directions Kristen had given him to Chen's. The restaurant was small and smelled fantastic. He placed his order and, while he waited, called Kristen to let her know he was on his way. He had the food and was on the road again in less than five minutes.

Mac took SW 14th and followed it to the end, then made a left into an established neighborhood, wishing all the while his stomach would settle down. It had been giving him fits since he left St. Helens. He was hungry, but that only accounted for a small amount of his discomfort. His date with Kristen had him flustered and fighting butterflies.

On top of that, the incident with Dana still worried him. He didn't really care if she told the guys how she'd outrun him. He was more concerned about his condition. He should have been there for her. What if the guy had had a gun? Dana could have been hurt and where was he? He had to do something about his diet and his workout schedule. He'd told Dana about packing on the pounds and realized the pounds he'd put on had caused him to lose his edge.

Mac pulled up in front of an older Cape Cod home. Kristen opened the door before he could knock. Her pink-red-purple hair stood up in spikes as usual. She was wearing some kind of lip gloss. Her gaze traveled from his face to his hands. She grabbed the food and left him at the door.

He stood there a moment before stepping inside.

“Come in and close the door, Mac. I can't afford to heat the outdoors.”

He obliged, stepping in far enough to close the door behind him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected for décor and was pleasantly surprised at how normal Kristen's home looked. He'd expected Gothic stuff or leftover Halloween decorations, but it was small, warm, and cozy. The fireplace was real—not gas. A vase of flowers and some candles decorated the mantel. The place smelled homey—like she'd baked a spicy apple pie.

Kristen had gone into the kitchen, which was situated to his left. The room he was in went from an entry to a living room and dining area. The table was already set for two, and a candle arrangement and wine glasses indicated a level of intimacy Mac was less than ready for. Straight ahead was a hallway with a bathroom and probably two or three bedrooms.

Standing in the second doorway was a small boy with curly hair. He held a scraggly looking blanket in one hand and a teddy bear in the other. Andrew watched Mac warily for several seconds before stepping into the hallway and inching toward him. Once he'd made the decision, he ran, then stopped abruptly in front of him and held out a skinny arm. “You must be Mac.”

Mac hunkered down to the boy's level and shook his hand. “I am. What's your name?”

“I'm Andrew. Mama said I could wait for you to get here, then I have to go to bed.”

“Aren't you going to eat with us?” Mac asked, thinking the kid could run interference.

“He already ate.” Kristen came into the room with two serving bowls, which she set on the table. “Andrew had dinner at my mother's. Mom takes him when I have to work late.” She sighed. “Which is way too often.”

Kristen came toward them, her face filled with adoration as she stooped down and picked up the child.

Andrew slipped his slender arms around his mother's neck. “Can Mac read me a bedtime story and say prayers with me? Please?”

Kristen laughed. Turning to Mac, she asked, “Do you mind?”

“Uh—no.”What else could he say? He followed them down the hall and into a room decorated in shades of blue. Andrew had a toy car collection that could rival Toys ‘R'Us. One wall was covered with large framed posters of NASCAR drivers. The kid was definitely spoiled.

Kristen kissed Andrew and said a childhood prayer, then handed Mac a book and left to finish getting dinner on the table. Mac sat on an old-style Quaker rocking chair with Andrew curled in his lap. He read all of five pages before the boy fell asleep.

Not certain what to do next, Mac set the book on the floor and glanced toward the open door, hoping Kristen would come in and put the child to bed. When she didn't, he held Andrew close and tried not to wake him as he stood. Mac placed him on the bed, then tucked the covers around him. He'd never had much experience with children and had no idea why the sight of the sleeping child brought a lump to his throat and a catch in his heart. He gave into the urge to kiss the boy's forehead.

He straightened and felt a movement at his side as Kristen slipped an arm through his. “There's something special about a sleeping child, don't you think?”

“Yeah, I guess there is.” Mac's heart pounded as he turned toward Andrew's mother. Here, in her little boy's room, Kristen seemed softer, warmer, more . . . he stopped his thoughts before they took him to a place he had no intention of going. “Um—I don't know about you, but I'm ready for some of that chow mein.”

Kristen stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for putting him to bed.”

“Right.” He swallowed hard. “No problem.”

Kristen took his hand and led him to the table, where they ate and talked about work. Mac relaxed as Kristen told him about the shooting victim who had come in at closing time. The conversation stayed on a safe level, with neither of them drifting into a deeper, more intimate place. To be honest, the scene with Kristen in the kid's room had terrified him. He didn't want to get that close to her or feel something so deep. It was way too soon. While Kristen was an interesting dinner companion, Mac couldn't see himself getting involved.

They talked shop until eleven. “I need to get going,” Mac told her. “Dana and I are heading out to St. Helens to search Mullins's house in the morning.”

“Good. Let me know if you find anything. I may have my lab results by then.”

They stood in the doorway for a moment, Mac wondering if he should kiss her good-night. “Thanks for dinner,” he managed.

“Thank you for bringing it.” Kristen tipped her head down. “I liked having you here, Mac. I so seldom . . .” She made eye contact and grinned. “We'll have to do this again.”

“Right.” Mac stepped outside and Kristen closed the door, leaving him alone.

What's going on with you?
Mac asked himself on the way home.
She's not your type and . . . what you felt in that little boy's room was
simply a normal reaction to a sleeping child.

A lot of guys his age were married with families. Women talked about their biological clock ticking. Maybe guys had one of those too. Maybe it was time for him to find someone—settle down and have kids.

Only a couple months ago, he thought he'd found the right woman. Linda Morris was so beautiful and had seemed perfect for him. But Linda couldn't accept his being a cop. Couldn't handle his hours. He'd thought for a while he and Dana would make a go of it, but she had been very clear that it just wasn't going to happen—at least not while they were working together.

He definitely felt something for Kristen. But she had a strange hairdo and a tattoo on her shoulder and who knew what else? Mac pulled into his driveway, determined not to think about women at all. He had a job to do and had to be up early in the morning to do it. He'd told Dana to meet him at the office at seven, which meant he had to get up at six. Morning would come far too early.

MAC HAD NO TROUBLE FALLING ASLEEP. It was the waking up that bothered him.

His eyes refused to focus as he stared at the numbers on the alarm clock. The all-too-familiar audible tone on his pager chimed away on his bedside table.
Two-twenty-one. This can't be good.
Mac yawned and turned on his bedside lamp, then grabbed the pager. “Please let this be a low battery alarm,” he groaned as he pressed the green button that would light up the digital display.

Call me at dispatch ASAP re: Columbia County—Tammy

Mac knew Tammy only by voice. She was a night dispatch supervisor at the OSP dispatch center in Salem. Tammy had delivered dozens of wake-up calls to him during the past couple of years, all of them to deliver bad news.

Mac picked up his cordless phone and sat up in bed, pulling his scratch pad and pen from the bedside to take notes. He scratched out details from a previous call to make room for tonight's information.

“State Police Dispatch, state the nature of your call,” the male voice answered.

“This is eleven-fifty-four, McAllister. I'm responding to a call from the supervisor.”

“Mac?”Tammy came on a moment later. “You awake?”

“I am now.” Mac rubbed the top of Lucy's head. She had walked into his bedroom after seeing the light on and laid her head on his bare thigh. “What's up?”